Dr.  Dale 


na 


BY  MARION  HARLAND  & 
ALBERT  PAYSON  TERHUNE 


____>m___»WM»<*>*W< 


Dr.   Dale 


DR.  DALE 

A  Story  without  a  Moral 


By 

Marion  Harland 

and 

Albert  Payson  Terhune 


New  York 

Dodd,  Mead  and  Company 
1900 


Copyright,  igoo 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS    •     JOHN  WILSON 
AND  SON      •       CAMBRIDGE,   U.  8.  A, 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  Two  PARSONS i 

II.  'Twixx  FIRE  AND   FLOOD n 

III.  IN  THE  DOCTOR'S  SANCTUM 17 

IV.  THE  MIDDLE  Miss  MEAGLEY 30 

V.  MYRTLE  BELL 42 

VI.  "AFTER   ALL   THESE    BLACK   YEARS1'        ...  52 

VII.  REV.  C.  MATHER  WELSH ;  66 

VIII.  "OUR  LADY  OF  PEACE" 82 

IX.  SANDY  MCALPIN 94 

X.  "  LENORE  " 106 

XI.  THE  MEAGLEYS  AT  HOME 123 

XII.  "THE  SOUL  OF  A  MAN" 138 

XIII.  AT  THE  MOATED  WELL 149 

XIV.  "THE  RUTH"  SPEAKS 162 

XV.  AT  DINNER  WITH  THE  FOLGERS 170 

XVI.  SOCIALISM  AND  SONG 181 

XVII.  A  BRACE  OF  SURPRISES 193 

XVIII.  "  So  HELP  ME,  GOD  !" 205 

XIX.  "LOVE!  MY  LOVE!" 215 

XX.  THE  WOMAN  IN  BLACK 230 

XXI.  THE  ELECTRIC  STORM 244 


vi  Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXII.    "THE  RUTH"  AT  MIDNIGHT 255 

XXIII.  THE  PASSING  OF  RALPH  FOLGER  ....  267 

XXIV.  IN  THE  LIBRARY 279 

XXV.    UNDER  THE  SNOW 289 

XXVI.    CORONER  KRUGER 301 

XXVII.    DOGBERRY  IN  THE  CHAIR 312 

XXVIII.  MRS.  BOWERSOX  TAKES  THE  STAND  .    .    .  324 

XXIX.    THE  COMMITTAL 339 

XXX.    THE  "  PREFERRED  "  PRISONER 348 

XXXI.    AGAINST  ORDERS 358 

XXXII.  MR.  WELSH  PAYS  HIS  DEBT      .     .     .    .    .  370 

XXXIII.  A  SHEAF  OF  MEMORIES 382 

XXXIV.  OBITER  DICTA 392 


DR.  DALE 

CHAPTER   I 

THE  TWO   PARSONS 

"Argument,  as  usually  managed,  is  the  worst  sort  of  conversation, 
as  it  is  generally  in  books  the  worst  sort  of  reading." 

SIX  years  before  the  January  night  that  marks 
the  beginning  of  this  story,  the  scene  of  it  was 
a  prosperous  farming  district,  pleasant,  and 
not  lacking  in  picturesqueness.  The  nearest 
railway  was  three  miles  from  the  heart  of  the 
township ;  a  creek,  not  more  than  a  hundred  feet 
wide  at  any  point,  when  not  swollen  by  winter  rains, 
wound  leisurely  between  low  hills  covered  with  wheat 
and  corn  fields.  From  the  top  of  this  range  one 
saw  on  every  hand  the  substantial  homes  and  well- 
tilled  acres  of  "  Pennsylvania  Dutch  "  farmers.  Gray 
stone  houses  with  hip-roofs  were  flanked  by  big  red 
barns,  clustering  straw-stacks,  and  thrifty  apple- 
orchards.  Each  farm  had  its  belt  or  square  or 
parallelogram  of  woodland ;  clumps  of  elms,  maples, 
and  water-willows  darkened  the  pools  and  check- 
ered the  sunny  shallows  of  the  creek.  Peace,  with 
modest  abundance,  was  the  presiding  spirit  of  the 
whole.  Blue  undulations  upon  the  southeastern  hori- 
zon were  the  outposts  of  the  mountains  guard- 
ing the  happy  valley  from  the  invasion  of  Eastern 
progress. 

In  the  "  hard  winter  "  of  the  year  upon  which  we 
are  about  to  enter,  snow  had  overlapped  snow  from 

i 


2  Dr.  Dale 

month  to  month.  Since  New  Year's  Day  the  ice- 
fringe  of  the  eaves  had  not  dripped ;  all  hauling  to 
and  from  town  was  done  by  ox  and  mule  sleds ;  the 
surface  of  the  creek  was  like  black  marble. 

At  nine  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  the  sixth  of 
January,  a  man,  alighting  from  the  caboose  of  a 
freight-train  at  the  Pitvale  station,  was  greeted  by 
the  station-agent  with  — 

"  Another  rip-snorter,  Mr.  Bell !  Four  below  ! 
'T  will  be  ten  by  morning." 

"  Maybe  not,  Mr.  Hopper.  Always  hope  for  the 
best !  Good-night !  " 

The  "  Good-night "  was  called  back  over  his 
shoulder.  He  had  not  broken  the  stride  that  had 
landed  him  on  the  platform.  The  smart  strokes  of 
his  heels  upon  the  boards  of  the  sidewalk  were  like 
the  ring  of  metal  upon  metal.  The  planks  were 
heaved  from  the  level  by  the  frost  into  choppy 
ridges;  here  and  there  one  was  missing.  Heeding 
the  gaps  which  endangered  unwary  passengers,  the 
pedestrian  reflected  that  there  would  be  more  and 
wider  holes  before  anybody  found  time  to  mend 
them.  The  spur  of  railway  laid  from  the  main  line 
three  miles  away  to  the  newly  born  town  was,  like 
everything  else  pertaining  to  the  w»-settlement 
aforesaid,  hastily  constructed,  a  makeshift  in  the 
emergency  thrust  upon  men  consumed  by  one  over- 
mastering passion,  —  the  lust  for  sudden  riches. 

Station  and  freight-house  were  huge  sheds;  the 
rows  of  buildings  facing  the  streets  crooking  away 
from  the  railway  terminus  at  every  conceivable  angle, 
were,  in  that  part  of  the  town,  little  better  than  hovels, 
one  story  high,  knocked  together  like  so  many 
wooden  boxes.  The  rudely  paved  streets,  seamed 
by  wheels  and  broken  by  hoofs,  showed  darkly  by 
contrast  with  the  heaps  and  walls  of  snow  fencing 
the  sidewalks. 


The  Two  Parsons 


Upon  the  rising  ground  beyond  the  body  of  the 
town,  and  up  and  down  the  creek  in  all  directions, 
arose  what  might  have  been  mistaken  in  the  moon- 
light for  the  masts  of  a  mighty  fleet,  so  numerous 
and  so  closely  crowded  together  were  the  derricks 
advertising  the  reason  of  the  town's  being,  and  the 
fountains  of  wealth  unsealed  to  those  who  had  flocked 
thither  since  the  first  well  was  sunk,  a  scant  six  years 
ago,  in  the  most  humdrum  district  within  an  area  of 
five  hundred  miles. 

They  told  the  whole  story  —  punctuating  the  valley 
with  hundreds  of  exclamation-points,  startling  in 
their  number  and  in  their  hideousness,  obstructing 
the  view  of  the  heavens  when  one  looked  up,  black- 
ening the  reeking  soil  where  the  snow  refused  to  lie, 
and  where  grass  and  grain  would  never  grow  again. 
Crude  oil  was  the  freight  of  the  big-bellied  cylinders 
loading  long  lines  of  cars  lumbering  over  the  badly 
ballasted  railway;  iron  veins,  above  and  below  the 
oozing  soil,  pulsed  with  thick  greenish-yellow  fluid 
to  be  transmuted  in  distant  refineries  into  gold  for 
the  coffers  of  well-owners  and  into  living  light  for 
a  continent. 

The  tall  pedestrian  met  few  other  wayfarers  as  he 
forged  along  the  lower  streets.  Business  offices 
were  closed  for  the  night,  and  nobody  braved  the 
intense  cold  who  could  stay  in-doors.  "  Well-work  " 
in  Pitvale  was  over  with  the  going  down  of  the  sun. 
This  was  not  mercy,  but  expediency.  The  Great 
Product  was  too  hasty  of  temper  to  be  tempted  by 
lamp  and  torch.  Over-hours  had  come  to  be  asso- 
ciated in  the  minds  of  owners  and  operatives  with 
expensive  accidents. 

At  a  sharp  turn  of  the  thoroughfare  the  scene 
became  more  animated.  Board  walks  were  wider 
and  more  substantial;  houses  of  two  and  three 
stories  took  the  place  of  the  hovels.  The  ground 


4  Dr.   Dale 

floor  of  each  was  a  shop,  a  restaurant,  a  drinking- 
saloon,  or  some  place  of  alleged  amusement.  The 
two  sides  of  the  way  on  every  block  suggested  to 
a  quick  imagination  a  double  row  of  irregular  teeth, 
here  a  stump,  there  a  gap,  then  a  group  of  artificial 
incisors,  bicuspids  or  molars,  upright  and  glaring,  fresh 
from  the  dentist's  hands.  Street  lamps,  dusky  red  in 
the  moonbeams,  burned  at  the  corners  and  over  and 
behind  shop-fronts.  Gaudy  placards,  illustrating  the 
attractions  of  a  hippodrome,  covered  a  twenty-foot 
board  fence  separating  two  shop-fronts  ;  a  show  of 
"  canned  goods "  in  a  grocer's  window  was  in  the 
shape  of  a  derrick,  surmounted  by  a  kerosene  lamp 
and  labelled  THE  WELL  THAT  NEVER  FAILS.  A 
seventh-rate  blood-and-thunder  melodrama  was  on 
at  THE  ONE  AND  ONLY  PITVALE  OPERA  HOUSE, 
duly  puffed  by  crimson  and  black  head-lines  a  foot 
long,  and  life-size  purple  and  green  human  figures 
on  the  posters  papering  the  outer  walls. 

A  brick  building,  broader  and  taller  than  its 
neighbours,  was  gorgeous  with  coloured  lights  project- 
ing from  the  window-sills  of  the  first  and  second 
stories.  The  lunette  over  the  front  door  was  filled 
by  a  "  transparency,"  brilliantly  illuminated.  In  the 
background  a  derrick  arose  blackly  against  a  bloody 
sunset.  In  the  foreground  Boniface,  in  white  and 
gold  doublet,  cap  and  plume,  offered  a  long-necked 
goblet  brimming  with  magenta  wine  to  a  working- 
man  in  grimy  shirt  and  trousers.  Beneath,  COME 
AS  YOU  ARE,  DIRTY  OR  CLEAN!  flamed  in  scarlet. 
Upon  a  plate-glass  window  of  the  ground  floor  was 
lettered,  in  gilt,  THE  OILMAN'S  REST.  A  red  cur- 
tain was  drawn  across  the  lower  sash.  Relieved  by 
this,  the  legend  glowed  like  fire,  each  letter  being 
heavily  gilded  in  outline,  leaving  a  hollow  space  to 
be  filled  by  the  scarlet  of  the  curtain.  The  conceit 
was  ingenious,  the  effect  striking. 


The  Two  Parsons 


Our  pedestrian  was  abreast  of  the  window  when 
he  espied  something  unusual  out  of  the  tail  of  his 
eye,  and  wheeled  to  face  it.  Across  the  word  REST 
was  a  wide  chalk-mark ;  below  it  was  printed  in  bold 
capitals,  "  CURSE  !  !  !  " 

With  a  mutter  of  impatient  disgust,  John  Bell 
whipped  his  handkerchief  from  his  pocket  and 
rubbed  out  the  chalked  letters. 

"  You  're  consistent,  at  any  rate !  " 

The  snarl  sounded  from  under  Bell's  elbow.  He 
turned  to  face  a  man  who  was  eying  the  besmeared 
sign  with  strong  disfavour. 

Seen  in  the  glare  of  the  illuminated  window,  the 
speaker  was  a  trifle  over  five  feet  tall  and  looked 
shorter.  The  two  upper  buttons  were  missing  from 
a  shabby  overcoat,  revealing  a  strait-breasted  waist- 
coat and  a  white  wisp  of  a  cravat.  His  face  was 
narrow  and  keen,  nor  did  the  sandy  side-whiskers 
relieve  its  ferret-like  look.  His  sharp  nose  was  blue 
with  cold ;  above  it  pale  eyes  glowered  waterily. 

"  Good-evening,  Mr.  Welsh,"  said  Bell,  civilly. 
"  Did  you  speak  to  me?  " 

"  As  you  are  the  only  living  being  besides  myself 
on  this  block,  you  may  suppose  that  I  did,"  answered 
the  little  man.  "And  I  was  commenting  on  your  con- 
sistency in  rubbing  out  a  word  that  might  deter  some 
weak  brother  from  entering  this  den  of  iniquity." 

"  Whoever  chalked  that  word  there,"  Bell  urged 
patiently,  "  was  defacing  another  man's  property. 
He  had  no  right  —  moral  or  legal — to  do  it.  I 
rubbed  it  off  just  as  I  should  expect  you  or  any  one 
else  to  remove  an  unsightly  nuisance  from  my  own 
window,  or  —  " 

"  Or  from  a  window  of  The  Bachelors'  Club," 
finished  the  Rev.  C.  Mather  Welsh,  ranging  him- 
self alongside  of  the  larger  man  as  the  latter  moved 
on  up  the  street. 


6  Dr.  Dale 

"  Or  from  a  window  of  The  Bachelors'  Club," 
assented  Bell,  in  perfect  gravity. 

"  And  why  not?  "  went  on  Welsh,  galled  at  failing 
to  arouse  the  other  to  argument.  "  After  all,  you 
were  only  doing  what  one  saloon-keeper  might  be 
expected  to  do  for  another." 

"  Saloon-keeper?  "  with  a  surprised  intonation, 

"  I  mean  it !  I  know  that  The  Bachelors'  Club 
goes  by  another  name,  and  that  you  and  Dr.  Dale 
dispense  liquor  under  the  guise  of  philanthropy. 
To  a  plain  man  like  myself  it  is  hard  to  discriminate 
between  —  " 

The  rest  of  the  sentence  was  lost  in  a  babel  of 
voices.  Both  clergymen  stopped  and  glanced  back. 
The  door  of  The  Oilman's  Rest  was  burst  open,  and 
four  men,  locked  in  a  drunken  grapple,  reeled  out 
upon  the  sidewalk,  slipped  over  the  edge,  and  fell, 
a  squirming,  bellicose,  blasphemous  heap,  into  the 
frozen  slush  of  the  street. 

"  Between  The  Oilman's  Rest  and  The  Bachelors' 
Club,  you  were  going  to  say?"  suggested  Bell, 
walking  on. 

Welsh  glared  upward  in  silence  at  the  rough- 
ulstered  shoulder,  swinging  back  and  forth,  fully 
three  inches  above  his  head.  He  swallowed  twice 
audibly  before  attempting  to  reply. 

"  Sophistry  can  never  triumph  in  the  long  run. 
Brother  Bell,"  he  said,  at  last,  with  a  stiff  effort  at 
dignity.  "  Your  Club  may  not  have  scenes  of  that 
sort.  If  I  am  rightly  informed,  there  are  rules  and 
regulations  that  maintain  an  appearance  of  order. 
One  is,  nevertheless,  as  corrupt  as  the  other." 

Bell  smiled  with  the  amused  tolerance  of  a  calm 
big  dog  for  an  angry  poodle,  —  a  smile  that  irritated 
Welsh  as  a  blow  would  not  have  done. 

"  You  may  laugh  as  you  please !  "  he  gurgled.  "  It 
is  no  laughing  matter  to  me,  or  to  such  as  I.  I  have 


The  Two  P arsons 


laboured  diligently  in  this  vineyard  —  rightly  named 
Pitvale  —  for  over  three  years.  I  have  borne  the 
heat  and  the  burden  of  the  day.  I  have  battled  with 
the  demon  Rum  —  as  — as  Hermes  of  old  with  the 
Python  - 

"  Pardon  me  !  Hercules,  I  think  it  was  ?  With  the 
Hydra?  Mythology  gives  it  nine  heads.  The  middle 
head  was  immortal.  Intemperance  has  fifty  heads. 
Your  figure  is  just,  Mr.  Welsh.  Your  work  is 
zealous  and  noble.  Your  energy  is  untiring  —  " 

"  And  what  has  been  my  reward?"  Welsh's  dog- 
trot kept  him  up  with  Bell's  strides.  As  he  ha- 
rangued he  laid  his  head  perkily  upon  his  shoulder 
to  train  his  eyes  upon  the  other's  face.  "  As  I  was 
on  the  point  of  crushing  out  rum-shops  and  gin-mills 
with  an  iron  hand,  cutting  off  the  monster's  head 
with  the  sword  of  the  Lord  and  of  Gideon,  you  and 
your  Dr.  Dale  induce  the  young  millionaire  you 
have  infatuated  with  your  arts  to  build  this  so-called 
Bachelors'  Club  where  beer  is  actually  kept  on 
tap—" 

His  wind  went  out  in  a  snort. 

"  It  is  very  good  beer,  Mr.  Welsh,  —  the  purest 
money  can  buy." 

"  It  is  the  drink  of  perdition,  sir !  "  snapped  Welsh. 
"  It  steals  men's  brains ;  it  damns  men's  souls  !  " 

"  So  will  black  coffee  and  strong  tea,  if  drunk  to 
excess.  You  should  have  heard  Dr.  Dale's  lecture 
to  our  operatives'  wives  in  the  Club  Hall  last  week, 
upon  tea-topers,"  interposed  Bell,  obstinately  good- 
humoured. 

Welsh's  snap  was  a  splutter;  he  stamped  as  he 
walked. 

"  Have  a  care,  Brother  Bell !  oh,  have  a  care  what 
you  say  and  do!  It  is  a  grave  matter  for  a  minister 
of  the  everlasting  Gospel  to  set  a  stumbling-block  in 
the  way  of  helpless  souls.  The  very  men  I  hoped  to 


8  Dr.  Dale 

convert  have  joined  your  Club.  They  go  further. 
They  attend  your  church  on  Sabbath  morning  and 
take  part  in  your  so-called  '  service  of  song'  in  the 
Club  Hall  on  Sabbath  evening,  passing  my  church- 
door  on  their  way.  And  what  do  you  give  them  in 
place  of  the  bread  of  life?  Music  by  the  band  —  an 
infidel  at  the  organ  —  a  pretty  little  sermon  upon 
cleanliness  —  " 

"  In  heart  and  in  life  !  "  interjected  Bell. 

The  orator  fumed  on,  as  if  he  had  not  spoken. 

"  You  lure  them  to  drown  soul  and  body  in  that 
devil's  broth  —  beer !  Beware,  I  say,  my  young 
brother !  '  Them  that  were  entering  in  ye  hin- 
dered ! '  '  Woe  unto  him  by  whom  the  offence 
cometh  ! '  '  Woe  unto  him  that  putteth  the  cup 
to  his  neighbour's  lips  ! '  '  Woe  unto  them  that  are 
at  ease  in  Zion ;  that  prophesy  smooth  things  !  ' " 

"There  is  another  text,"  put  in  Bell,  as  a  gust 
of  wind,  swirling  around  the  corner,  bearing  in  its 
eddies  a  thousand  icy  needles,  dashed  into  Welsh's 
face,  choking  him  with  his  own  volley  of  Scriptural 
quotations,  • —  "  one  that  strikes  me  as  almost  as 
pertinent,  just  here,  as  any  you  have  cited.  It  has 
to  do  with  judging  another's  deeds  and  motives. 
You  may  recall  it?  " 

"  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  judge  any  man !  " 
Welsh's  watery  eyes  were  turned  upward  in  humil- 
ity none  the  less  ludicrous  because  utterly  sincere. 
"  Far  be  it  from  me  to  judge  you,  or  even  one  whom 
I  firmly  believe  to  be  your  tempter  in  the  down- 
ward road.  To  his  own  Master  let  him  stand  or  fall. 
I  do  not  forget  that  Michael  the  archangel  brought 
no  railing  accusation  against  that  Master.  I  come  to 
you  —  as  one  who  would  not  bear  the  sword  in  vain 
—  to  remonstrate  in  a  spirit  of  truth  and  love  against 
this  mistaken  idea  of  yours ;  this  device  that  leads 
young  men  to  ruin,  that  fills  drunkards'  graves, 


The  Two  Parsons 


that  desolates  happy  homes.  You  meet  my  well- 
meant  appeal  with  flippant  sophistry !  "  The  little 
man's  voice  broke  in  something  like  a  sob.  "  I  have 
borne  testimony  against  this  abominable  thing 
which  my  soul  hates.  I  have  nothing  more  to 
say." 

"  But  /  have !  "  said  Bell,  seriously  and  kindly. 
"  Much  more.  I  give  you  full  credit,  Mr.  Welsh,  for 
what  you  have  done,  for  what  you  are  doing,  for  the 
poor,  the  ignorant,  the  stupid,  and  the  vicious  in 
our  community.  I  may  not  agree  with  you  as  to 
methods,  but  I  believe  yours  are  well-meant.  Can't 
you  have  the  same  faith  in  mine?  You  have  picked 
up  a  lot  of  unfounded  rumours  about  our  Club  and 
accept  them  as  true.  Won't  you  judge  of  us  for 
yourself  ?  I  am  on  my  way  there  now.  Come 
with  me,  and  see  things  without  prejudice.  You 
shall  go  through  restaurant,  halls,  kitchen,  bath- 
rooms, and  cellar.  You  shall  see  who  are  there,  and 
just  what  they  are  saying  and  doing.  I  promise  you 
a  cordial  welcome.  Have  a  look  at  our  library,  our 
music-room,  our  gymnasium  —  " 

"And  at  your  billiard-room  and  bar,  I  suppose?" 
"  Certainly ! "  assented  Bell,  in  all  good  faith. 
"  A  billiard-room  where  there  is  no  betting.  A  bar 
—  although  we  don't  call  it  that  —  where  nothing 
stronger  is  kept  than  beer  that  has  passed  an  honest 
inspector ;  where  not  a  drop  is  sold  to  any  man  who 
is  under  the  influence  of  liquor,  or  whose  record  — 
kept  in  our  ledgers  —  shows  that  he  is  disposed  to 
take  more  than  his  head  can  bear.  You  will  find 
a  quiet,  orderly,  contented  crowd,  seated  in  the  outer 
room,  chatting  over  pipes  and  beer,  playing  back- 
gammon or  draughts  or  chess.  We  will  have  a 
cup  of  the  best  coffee  made  in  Pitvale  —  our  cook  is 
capital !  I  don't  drink  beer,  but  I  should  like  to 
have  you  taste  it  and  — " 


io  Dr.  Dale 

"  How  dare  you !  "  gasped  Welsh,  stopping  short, 
his  high,  thin  voice  rising  into  a  treble  squeal,  his 
whole  body  quivering  with  rage.  "  How  dare  you  ! 
I  had  looked  for  indifference  —  for  —  disregard  of  my 
solemn  appeal.  But  a  deliberate  insult  like  this !  " 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  stamped  away,  the 
frozen  boards  squeaking  and  crackling  under  his 
furious  tread. 

John  Bell  stood  staring  after  him  for  a  moment 
in  open-mouthed  amazement. 

"  What,  in  the  name  of  common-sense,  have  I  done 
now?"  he  said,  aloud.  "I  thought  we  were  getting 
on  famously !  " 

He  squared  his  shoulders  and  gave  his  stalwart 
frame  the  impatient  shake  by  which  a  Newfoundland 
frees  his  coat  of  clinging  drops  after  a  dip  in  muddy 
water,  then  swung  himself  at  a  quicker  gait  up  the 
street. 


CHAPTER   II 

'TWIXT    FIRE  AND   FLOOD 

"  Then  rose  from  sea  to  sky  the  wild  farewell ; 
Then  shrieked  the  timid  and  stood  still  the  brave ; 
Then  some  leaped  overboard  with  dreadful  yell, 
As  eager  to  anticipate  their  grave." 


infant  oil-industry  of  Pitvale  had  just 
passed  its  second  summer  when  the  first 
black  cross  was  set  over  against  one  of  the 
as    yet   few    pages    of    its    history.     The 
Jaynesville   dam,    built   across    the    creek 
about  four  miles  "  up  the  country,"  broke  after  a 
fortnight  of  heavy   November  rains.     A  solid  wall 
of  water  toppled  over  upon  the  lowlands,  filling  the 
valley  half-way  up  to  the  rim   of  the   girdling  hills 
with  turbid,  yeasty  waves. 

Before  the  terrified  inhabitants  of  the  growing 
town  could  appreciate  the  gravity  of  the  disaster 
already  upon  them,  it  was  followed  by  a  second 
and  a  more  frightful.  Chasing  the  racing  current 
in  the  bed  of  the  creek  ran  a  sinuous  belt  of  fire, 
leaping,  licking,  lashing,  like  fiery  whips,  at  the 
floating  objects  jumbled  together  by  the  rush  of  the 
flood.  Cottages  wrenched  from  their  foundations, 
the  roofs  and  beams  of  larger  buildings,  —  some 
of  them  covered  with  clinging  human  forms,  —  hay- 
ricks, waggons,  bodies  of  drowned  horses,  cows, 
sheep,  and  calves  —  all  seen  with  horrible  distinctness 
by  the  flare  of  the  burning  oil,  were  swept  past  the 
spectators  on  the  banks,  themselves  powerless  to  aid 
the  sufferers.  The  sky  was  hidden  by  volumes  of 
pitchy  smoke,  the  stench  of  the  liberated  gas  and 
the  hot  petroleum  was  stifling.  The  screams  of 


12  Dr.  Dale 

those  who  cried  vainly  for  help,  the  weeping  of  those 
who  could  not  give  it,  the  shrieks  of  women  and 
the  shouts  of  men,  arose  above  the  hoarse  roar  of 
flood  and  flame.  Rescue-parties  in  small  boats  were 
caught  in  the  swirling  torrent,  or  driven  back  to 
shore  by  smoke  and  heat ;  two  boats  were  capsized 
and  all  on  board  drowned.  Men  swam  ashore  to 
die  in  the  arms  that  dragged  them  out,  suffocated 
by  crude  oil,  or  charred  by  the  fire  ;  women  and 
children  were  burned  alive  almost  within  reach  of 
land. 

Ralph  Folger,  the  richest  well-owner  in  the  district, 
had  had  built  for  his  own  use,  and  sent  to  Pitvale, 
but  two  days  before  the  freshet,  a  large  row-boat, 
sheathed  with  copper.  It  lay  upon  the  slope  of  the 
meadows  just  above  the  reach  of  the  water,  awaiting 
the  orders  of  the  absent  owner.  John  Bell  had  been 
for  three  years  the  popular  pastor  of  the  venerable 
stone  church  now  within  the  town  limits.  When  he 
called  to  four  men  who  had  kept  enough  of  their 
senses  to  comprehend  an  order,  to  help  him  launch 
the  craft,  he  was  obeyed  with  alacrity.  When  he 
leaped  into  the  boat,  seized  a  pair  of  oars,  and  asked 
for  volunteers  in  the  work  of  rescuing  the  struggling 
wretches  in  mid-stream,  but  one  came  forward.  This 
was  a  Scotchman  of  herculean  build,  whose  sturdy 
attachment  to  "  the  Dominie  "  would  not  let  him  lag 
behind  his  chief. 

"  Ah,  McAlpin  !  "  said  Bell,  cheerily,  as  the  giant 
walked  to  the  stern,  apparently  as  unperturbed  as 
if  engaged  for  a  summer  sail,  "  I  was  counting  upon 
you.  We  '11  try  it  alone  if  nobody  else  will  go." 

A  third  man  —  a  stranger  to  all  there  —  disen- 
gaged himself  from  the  agitated  crowd. 

"  Will  you  let  me  go  with  you  ? "  he  said  com- 
posedly. "  I  am  a  fair  oarsman,  to  say  nothing  of 
having  little  to  lose." 


Fire  and  Flood       13 


It  was  not  a  moment  for  explanation  or  ceremony. 
The  three  men  pulled  straight  for  the  channel  where 
human  figures,  singly  and  in  groups,  were  struggling 
like  drowning  ants,  catching  wildly  at  planks,  logs, 
the  bodies  of  dead  beasts  —  whatever  promised  the 
chance  of  escape,  however  slender. 

One,  two,  three,  were  overtaken  by  the  rowers  and 
dragged  into  the  boat,  —  a  man  who  held  a  woman's 
head  above  the  yellow  viscidity  of  the  oil;  a  boy 
who  was  sinking  for  the  third  time  ;  a  child  that 
wailed  feebly  from  the  bottom  of  the  boat  as  the 
rescuers  pushed  on.  Next,  two  men  and  a  girl 
clinging  desperately  to  the  slatted  sides  of  a  corn- 
crib. 

Then,  like  the  trump  of  the  archangel  above  a 
world  on  fire,  John  Bell's  shout  pealed  above  the 
hellish  clamour  of  screams,  curses,  and  rushing  surges, 

"  Shut  your  eyes  and  hold  your  breath  !  " 

The  three  rowers  bent  as  one  man  to  the  level  of 
the  rowlocks  ;  there  was  a  second  of  hissing  steam 
and  of  flying  spray  and  stifling  fumes,  and  they  had 
shot  right  through  the  heart  of  the  fiery  serpent, 
twisting  and  belching  in  the  current;  tongues  of 
liquid  flame  reached  over  the  gunwale  for  the  trem- 
bling creatures  prostrate  among  the  ribs  of  the  gallant 
boat,  and  spit  angrily  at  the  bow  as  it  cleft  the 
tide. 

When  the  passengers  cleared  their  eyes  from  the 
blinding  dash  of  oil  and  water,  they  saw  a  double- 
leaved  barn-door,  lifted  by  the  flood  from  the  hinges, 
the  two  sides  still  held  together  by  the  great  bolts 
in  the  middle,  pitching  toward  the  irregular  streak  of 
ignited  oil.  Two  women  were  upon  it.  One,  on  her 
knees,  clung  with  both  hands  to  a  bolt  ;  her  scream 
for  "  Help  !  "  pierced  the  ears  of  the  beholders.  The 
other  woman  lay  doubled  up  oddly,  face  downward, 
in  the  middle  of  the  raft.  A  sudden  swell  lifted  it 


H  Dr.  Dale 

against  the  boat  with  a  shock  that  loosened  the  grasp 
of  the  kneeling  figure.  Before  her  agonised  shriek 
was  lost  in  the  general  tumult,  the  stranger  who  had 
"  little  to  lose  "  threw  himself  almost  at  half-length 
over  the  guards  of  the  boat  and  clutched  her  hair. 
With  a  word  to  McAlpin,  John  Bell  jumped  over- 
board, and  swam  for  the  float  cast  astern  by  the 
recoil  of  the  collision,  and  now  twenty  feet  away  in 
the  very  jaws  of  the  flames.  One  foot  of  the  woman 
was  wedged  in  between  the  leaves  of  the  door.  At 
the  wrench  that  tore  them  apart  to  liberate  her,  she 
cried  out  faintly.  She  seemed  to  be  quite  dead  when 
the  swimmer  passed  her  up  to  his  comrades.  She 
was  limp  and  lifeless  in  the  arms  of  those  who  bore 
her  up  the  bank  from  the  boat  and  laid  her  upon  a 
cot  in  the  nearest  house. 

John  Bell  and  his  unknown  helper  had  carried  her 
between  them.  As  the  stranger  raised  her  head 
that  the  air  might  reach  her  face,  Bell  recognised 
Ruth  Folger,  the  sister  of  the  owner  of  the  boat 
which  had  rescued  her.  He  knew,  afterward,  that 
she  had  gone  to  visit  a  school-fellow  in  the  country 
the  day  before  the  breaking  of  the  dam,  and  been 
detained  there  by  the  storm.  Driven  from  their 
house  by  the  invading  waters,  the  family  took  refuge 
in  the  barn,  which  stood  upon  higher  ground.  They 
were  barely  under  shelter  when  a  tremendous  wave 
bore  down  upon  it.  Neither  of  the  saved  girls  had 
any  distinct  recollection  of  what  happened  next  or 
afterwards,  until  the  raft  struck  the  boat. 

John  Bell's  memory  was  as  much  at  fault  up  to 
date  with  regard  to  the  interval  separating  the  dis- 
embarkation of  the  dozen  rescued  people  and  the 
removal  of  Miss  Folger  and  her  friend  to  a  place 
where  they  could  be  properly  cared  for,  from  the 
moment  when,  struggling  out  of  a  queer  stupor  that 
numbed  limbs,  brain,  and  tongue,  he  found  that  he 


'Twixt  Fire  and  Flood       15 

was  lying  in  his  own  bed.  McAlpin  was  on  one  side 
of  him,  chafing  his  right  hand.  The  left  was  held  by 
a  man  whose  face  was  vaguely  familiar,  but  whose 
name  he  could  not  recall.  At  the  foot  of  the  bed 
stood  his  hostess  and  parishioner,  Mrs.  Sarepta 
Bowersox,  her  cheeks  streaked  with  tears,  her  eyes 
fixed  mournfully  upon  her  lodger's  face. 

He  was  swathed  in  blankets  from  head  to  foot; 
a  powerful  odour  of  whiskey  and  singed  hair  per- 
meated the  air;  his  hands  and  forehead  stung  and 
burned  as  if  from  scalding  water ;  lips  and  tongue 
were  blistered ;  his  throat  was  dry  and  sore ;  he 
breathed  with  difficulty.  He  tried  to  smile  at  Mrs. 
Bowersox,  and  effected  a  grimace  instead,  seeing 
which,  her  tears  started  anew.  Then  he  turned  his 
gaze  full  upon  the  stranger  attendant. 

"  I  am  Dr.  Dale,"  said  singularly  rich  and  mellow 
tones  that  were  yet  somewhat  muffled  to  the  patient's 
hearing,  as  if  his  ears  were  stuffed  with  cotton.  "  I 
came  to  Pitvale  yesterday  afternoon.  I  was  in  the 
boat  with  you,  and  have  been  kept  pretty  busy  ever 
since." 

In  speaking,  he  fastened  his  eyes  upon  John's,  and 
articulated  carefully.  John's  honest  gray  eyes  cleared 
and  brightened  under  the  scrutiny;  his  wits  rallied 
into  line. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  observed,  his  tongue  slow  and 
stiff,  "  that  it  is  your  eyebrows  and  lashes  and  hair 
that  I  smell.  I  see  they  are  badly  scorched.  I  hope 
you  were  not  hurt  in  coming  to  my  help,  and  that 
your  hair  will  grow  out  again  soon." . 

The  smell  of  singeing  overpowered  that  of  whiskey. 
To  his  hazy  perceptions  the  loss  of  the  doctor's  eye- 
brows and  lashes  seemed  a  serious  matter. 

McAlpin  choked  down  a  snicker;  Mrs.  Bowersox 
moved  aside  out  of  sight.  Dr.  Dale  smiled  in  the 
friendliest  way  imaginable,  putting  the  hand  he  held 


16  Dr.  Dale 

back  under  the  coverlet.  John  knew  now  that  he 
had  been  counting  his  pulse. 

"  It  will,  I  think,"  he  said  easily.  "  And  yours 
too.  We  were  in  the  same  boat  in  more  senses  than 
one.  You  are  doing  well.  So  is  everybody  who 
was  with  us." 

John  stirred  restlessly. 

"  Ralph  Folger  should  be  sent  for.  He  ought  to 
know  that  his  sister  is  hurt.  She  is  not —  dead  —  is 
she?" 

"  She  is  alive  —  and  better  —  and  in  her  own 
house.  And  we  have  telegraphed  for  her  brother," 
in  the  same  pleasant  way,  never  taking  his  eyes  from 
the  dilated  pupils  under  his  gaze.  "  Is  there  any- 
thing else  you  would  like  to  know  before  you  go  to 
sleep?  I  want  to  put  your  mind  entirely  at  ease." 

This  was  what  John  Bell  was  living  over  as  he 
finished  his  tramp  from  the  station  to  the  Bachelors' 
Club  House,  built  by  Ralph  Folger  as  a  memorial 
of  the  service  rendered  to  him  and  his  by  the  two 
friends.  Egbert  Dale  and  John  Bell  had  lived  and 
wrought  together,  —  been  "  in  the  same  boat,"  as 
they  had  a  habit  of  reminding  one  another,  —  one  in 
heart  and  soul  and  purpose,  for  three  years. 

All  was  still  well  with  them  and  with  everybody 
who  was  with  them  that  awful  night. 

"  I  shall  be  nearer  the  other  side  of  the  dark 
river  but  once,"  soliloquised  Bell,  soberly,  mounting 
the  stone  steps  of  the  largest  edifice  in  Pitvale. 
"Then  — I  shall  cross  it!" 


CHAPTER   III 

IN   THE  DOCTOR'S   SANCTUM 

"  Who  has  not  felt  how  sadly  sweet 
The  dream  of  Home,  the  dream  of  Home, 
Steals  o'er  the  heart,  too  soon  to  fleet, 
When  far  o'er  land  or  sea  we  roam  ?  " 


I 


office  of  Egbert  Dale,  M.D.  was  upon 
a  quieter  street  than  the  main  thoroughfare 
on  which  was  situated  The  Bachelors'  Club. 
Neat  cottage  residences  were  rising  about 
the  modest  story-and-a-half  building,  buff 
with  white  trimmings  and  dark-gray  roof.  There 
were  three  rooms,  all  spacious,  on  the  first  floor, 
besides  a  central  hall.  To  the  right  of  the  front  door 
was  a  general  office,  where  patients  waited  until  the 
doctor  was  ready  to  admit  them  to  the  inner  room  for 
examination,  advice,  and,  if  need  were,  for  treatment. 
Across  the  hall  was  the  physician's  especial  snuggery, 
comfortably  and  tastefully  furnished,  and  lined  with 
book-shelves.  A  steam-radiator  in  one  corner  sup- 
plied a  background  of  heat ;  an  open  grate  added  the 
semblance  to  the  reality  of  cheer  and  comfort.  The 
master  loved  heat  as  a  tropical  flower  the  humid 
warmth  of  the  conservatory.  He  was  no  more  a 
Sybarite  than  he  was  a  dandy,  but  his  ideas  on  the 
subject  of  personal  cleanliness  were  a  proverb  with 
patients  and  townspeople.  The  landlord  of  The  Oil- 
man's Rest  aimed  at  these  in  the  significant  inscrip- 
tion, "  Come  as  you  are,  dirty  or  clean."  The  poor- 
est operative,  drunk  or  sober,  was  welcome  to  a  meal 
in  the  restaurant  of  The  Bachelors'  Club,  if  hungry, 
whether  he  could  pay  for  it  or  not.  He  could  have 
neither  bite  nor  sup  until  he  had  taken  a  bath  in  one 


1 8  Dr.  Dale 

of  the  white-tiled  wash-rooms  of  the  establishment, 
and  exchanged  his  filthy  clothes  for  the  long-sleeved 
overalls  of  white  duck  worn  at  meals  by  such  of  the 
members  of  the  Club  as  had  not  time  to  make  an 
entire  change  in  their  clothing  before  sitting  down  to 
dinner  or  supper.  Each  member  had  his  locker  in  a 
dressing-room  where  he  might  leave  his  "  working 
clothes  "  before  going  home  at  night  to  his  boarding- 
house,  and  where  he  might  put  them  on  again  the 
next  morning.  This  was  one  of  the  devices  hit  upon 
by  the  founders  of  the  organisation  for  making  home- 
less oilmen  desirable  boarders  in  the  better  class  of 
dwelling-houses  in  the  neighbourhood.  Dutch  clean- 
liness revolted  at  sight  of  the  oily  grime  inseparable 
from  well-labour,  and  the  pungent  reek  of  crude  petro- 
leum was  literally  a  stench  in  the  housewife's  nostrils. 

But  for  regulations  sneered  at  as  "  finical "  by  the 
rougher  element  of  the  incongruous  population  sucked 
toward  a  common  centre  by  this  one  of  Mammon's 
whirlpools,  any  gathering  of  clubmen  would  have 
polluted  the.  atmosphere  of  their  quarters.  As  it  was, 
the  great  building  at  the  head  of  Main  Street  was  a 
refining  influence  in  all  the  region.  Every  member 
of  the  Club  was  a  stockholder  in  the  corporation  to 
the  extent  of  at  least  one  share,  and  had  a  personal 
interest  in  its  prosperity.  They  had  their  own  band, 
composed  principally  of  Germans,  and  the  concerts 
given  by  them  were  patronised  by  the  e"lite  of  town 
and  country. 

"  The  whole  thing  is  unique  in  the  history  of  min- 
ing corporations,"  said  one  of  a  visiting  party  of  dis- 
tinguished politicians  from  Harrisburg,  after  making 
the  round  of  the  building.  "  Who  is  entitled  to  the 
credit  of  it  ?  " 

Sandy  McAlpin  scratched  his  stubbly  chin  and 
pushed  his  Glengarry  cap  toward  his  left  ear,  before 
giving  his  decision  with  a  true  Gaelic  burr, — 


In  the  Doctors  Sanctum     19 

"  I  'm  thinkin'  the  Dominie  and  Dr.  Dale  might 
take  three-fourths  of  it.  They  furnished  the  brains  ! 
Mr.  Folger  put  up  the  money." 

Dr.  Dale  had  drawn  his  adjustable  lounging-chair 
up  to  the  fire  in  his  sanctum,  at  half-past  ten  o'clock 
on  the  evening  of  John  Bell's  return  from  a  week's 
visit  to  New  York.  The  grate  was  piled  with  red-hot 
coals  ;  some  sprays  of  mignonette  in  a  vase  on  the 
table  behind  him  scented  the  warmed  air  delicately. 
The  wind  hummed  in  the  chimney ;  through  the 
frozen  stillness  of  the  streets  the  shout  of  a  stray 
reveller  in  the  lower  town,  the  hoarse  "  pouff! 
pouff!  "  of  a  hard-pressed  locomotive,  the  grind  and 
rumble  of  a  loaded  train  a  mile  away,  accentuated  the 
restful  seclusion  of  a  man  whose  day's  work  was  done 
and  himself  free  to  enjoy  fireside  ease.  The  doctor 
lowered  the  chair-back  that  he  might  stretch  legs  and 
spine  more  at  length,  joined  his  finger-tips,  and  hoped 
devoutly  that  he  had  had  his  last  office-patient  for  the 
night. 

Professional  rivals  —  for  mushroom  civic  growth 
attracts  doctors  as  decay  draws  scavenger-insects  — 
more  than  intimated  that  he  owed  his  large  practice  to 
personal  gifts  rather  than  to  skill.  He  and  his  friends 
could  afford  to  let  the  aspersion  pass.  His  treatment 
of  the  half-drowned,  asphyxiated,  and  scorched  victims 
of  the  great  flood  laid  the  foundation  of  a  reputation 
which  subsequent  experience  had  built  up  solidly. 

Had  not  the  celebrated  Philadelphia  surgeon 
brought  out  in  a  special  train  by  Ralph  Folger  to 
attend  his  sister,  spoken  most  handsomely  of  the 
country  practitioner's  management  of  Miss  Folger's 
case,  particularly  commending  his  discretion  in  not 
amputating  her  crushed  foot  until  the  great  man's 
arrival?  A  neat  job  the  latter  had  made  of  it,  the 
fame  of  which  was  noised  abroad  by  city  papers  in 
connection  with  the  story  of  "  the  dual  calamity  that 


20  Dr.  Dale 

had  stricken  the  community,  sparing  neither  million- 
aire nor  miner." 

Ralph  Folger  had  drawn  his  check  for  four  thou- 
sand dollars,  payable  to  the  celebrated  carver's  order, 
adding  with  a  mighty  oath  that  he  would  have  paid 
ten  times  the  sum  to  have  the  poor  little  foot  saved. 
Nor  had  he  scrupled  to  declare,  afterwards  and 
repeatedly,  his  conviction  that  if  Dr.  Dale  had  not 
been  interfered  with  by  a  blanked  specialist,  he  would 
have  left  the  pretty  foot  where  it  was  and  mended  it 
up  to  be  as  good  as  new. 

The  dignity  of  conscious  power  and  of  energy  in- 
telligently controlled  was  in  this  man's  countenance 
and  bearing.  His  features  had  the  mould  and  the 
finish  of  a  Grecian  statue ;  the  clear  pallor  of  his  com- 
plexion was  set  off  by  dark  eyebrows  and  eyes ;  the 
always  clean-shaven  face  looked  the  younger  because 
his  closely  trimmed  hair  was  iron-gray.  Judged  by 
his  features,  he  was  under  thirty  years  of  age.  He 
had  the  repose  and  calm  authority  that  belong  to 
fifty.  His  address  was  direct,  sometimes  positive, 
never  discourteous,  because  he  kept  humours  and 
tempers  well  in  hand.  In  his  intercourse  with  the 
few  intimate  friends  he  had  made  in  Pitvale  his  man- 
ner was  singularly  winning  and  cordial.  Few  who 
met  him  could  resist  the  fascination,  exerted  at  will, 
of  the  occult  influence  we  classify  stupidly  as  "  per- 
sonal magnetism,"  defined  more  aptly  by  Elizabeth 
Stuart  Phelps  as  "  that  mystical  charm  which  comes 
not  of  striving,  or  of  prayer,  or  of  education,  —  the 
power  of  an  elect  personality." 

He  had  less  colour  than  usual  to-night ;  the  lines  of 
his  figure  were  lax,  the  face  was  pensive  to  moodiness. 
His  mail  had  lain  unopened  on  the  table  until  office- 
hours  were  over.  Two  letters  were  there  now.  A 
heap  of  gray  tinder,  fluttering  over  the  live  coals  in 
the  grate,  represented  the  rest.  In  his  reverie  he 


In  the  Doctor's  Sanctum     21 

seemed  to  count  the  risings  and  fallings  of  the  waifs. 
When  one  flake,  larger  than  the  others,  regular  in  form, 
and  some  inches  square,  the  lines  of  writing  faintly 
visible  upon  it,  dropped  upon  the  hearth,  he  picked 
it  up  and  threw  it  back  into  the  fire.  Method  and 
neatness  were  innate  and  unconquerable  with  him. 

The  inert  figure  straightened  into  alertness  as  an 
approaching  footstep  detached  itself  from  other  night 
sounds  without.  By  the  time  a  pass-key  rattled  in 
the  outer  door,  he  was  in  the  hall,  his  eager  hand  on 
the  bolt. 

"  Ha !  I  thought  I  could  not  be  mistaken !  "  he 
cried,  as  a  familiar  form  filled  the  doorway.  "  I 
should  know  your  step  in  the  Great  Libyan  Desert 
or  in  Siberia !  "  shivering  in  shutting  out  the  keen 
wind.  "  Where  did  you  drop  from?  You  always 
were  an  unexpected  sort  of  chap.  Come  in  !  I  've 
been  keeping  this  fire  and  the  big  chair  for  you  ever 
since  you  left." 

He  followed  Bell  into  the  study,  and  helped  him 
off  with  the  rough  ulster. 

"  The  opening  of  a  chestnut  burr !  "  he  quoted 
laughingly,  laying  the  heavy  garment  upon  the  sofa. 
"  What  time  did  you  get  in?  " 

The  visitor  stooped  to  spread  his  strong,  shapely 
hands  to  the  fire. 

"  An  hour  ago.  I  came  over  in  the  caboose  of  a 
freight  train.  I  stopped  at  the  Club  for  a  cup  of 
coffee  and  a  look  at  the  boys,  then  came  straight 
here." 

He  faced  Dale  in  saying  it,  and  they  shook  hands 
again  by  a  mutual  impulse.  Cordial  pleasure  at  the 
meeting  was  in  the  eyes  of  each. 

Bell  was  taller  by  two  inches  than  his  friend  and 
co-worker.  His  hair  and  full,  close-curling  beard 
were  of  the  glossy  brown  of  the  chestnut  to  which 
Dale  had  likened  him ;  gray,  well-opened  eyes,  with 


22  Dr.  Dale 

thick,  long  lashes,  were  his  best  feature.  The  rest 
of  the  face  was  strong,  kindly,  honest,  but  not  hand- 
some. Superb  specimen  of  physical  manhood  though 
he  was,  he  was  almost  too  massive  for  grace  beside 
the  supple  elegance  of  Dale's  figure  and  limbs.  His 
voice  was  powerful  and  deep  of  tone,  with  carrying 
qualities  that  made  him  an  effective  public  speaker. 
He  looked  the  pioneer,  Dale  the  artist  to  whom  should 
be  committed  the  task  of  finishing  and  polishing. 

"  Why  did  n't  you  telegraph  that  you  were  com- 
ing? "  continued  the  doctor,  as  they  seated  them- 
selves. "  I  'd  have  gone  down  to  meet  you." 

"  Thanks,  all  the  same !  But  I  did  n't  arrive 
wholly  unwelcomed.  Your  friend  Welsh  fell  in 
with  me  on  Main  Street,  walked  a  dozen  blocks  at 
my  side,  and  gave  me  divers  words  of  counsel.  I 
wish  I  could  get  more  into  touch  with  that  man.  I 
know  we  two  could  do  much  good  if  we  could  only 
work  in  unison.  But  he  invariably  rubs  me  the 
wrong  way,  and  somehow  I  contrive  to  offend  him 
without  the  least  intention  of  doing  it.  Why,  only 
to-night  —  " 

He  went  on  to  tell  of  the  Rev.  C.  Mather  Welsh's 
refusal  to  accept  the  hospitality  of  The  Bachelors' 
Club,  and  his  own  perplexity  at  the  passion  into 
which  the  proposition  to  adjourn  the  discussion  to 
the  restaurant  had  thrown  the  small  evangelist. 

Dale  stared,  wide-eyed,  at  the  speaker  as  the  story 
was  developed.  When  it  was  ended,  he  threw  him- 
self back  and  broke  into  a  shout  of  hearty  boyish 
laughter. 

Bell  stared  in  his  turn,  and  in  unfeigned  bewilder- 
ment. Dr.  Dale  was  not  given  to  violent  mirth. 

"What's  the  joke?  I  can't  see  the  point.  I've 
made  a  brother-man  and  brother-minister  angry. 
That 's  not  wildly  amusing,  to  my  notion.  How  I 
did  it  I  can't  guess." 


In  the  Doctor's  Sanctum     23 

"  Of  course  you  can't,  you  big,  straightforward, 
honest  schoolboy  of  six-feet-three !  When  will  you 
be  grown  up,  I  wonder?  All  you  did  was  to  ask 
a  rabid  teetotaller  to  step  into  a  bar  and  have  a 
drink.  You  invited  a  temperance  orator  to  pass 
judgment  on  the  quality  of  the  Club  beer.  That 
was  all !  Strange  that  the  little  man  took  it  amiss, 
wasn't  it?" 

Bell  listened,  open-mouthed ;  a  gleam  that  was  not 
all  regret  nor  yet  wholly  amused  dawned  in  his 
eyes. 

"I  —  suppose  —  I  —  really  did  all  that !  "  he  enun- 
ciated at  last.  "  But  you  see  I  really  meant  —  ' 

"Of  course /see  that  you  did  ;  but  Welsh  does  n't 
see  it,  and  what's  more,  he  never  will.  A  man  like 
that  covets  a  valid  excuse  for  disliking  and  downing 
everybody  who  does  n't  agree  with  his  views.  I  fell 
under  his  ban  long  ago  in  a  dozen  different  ways. 
One  offence  came  through  his  throwing  out  of  a 
window  a  bottle  of  French  brandy  I  had  left  for 
a  man  on  the  verge  of  coma  after  typhoid  fever.  I 
had  ordered  a  tablespoonful  to  be  given  every  half- 
hour  as  long  as  he  could  swallow  it,  or  until  I  came 
back.  When  I  paid  the  next  call,  I  found  Welsh 
on  his  knees  praying  into  a  dying  man's  ear,  after 
throwing  bottle,  brandy,  and  all  away.  I  waited  for 
him  outside  and  told  him,  coolly,  that  if  he  ever 
interfered  with  my  practice  again,  I  would  throw  him 
after  the  bottle.  Now  he  's  your  mortal  enemy  too. 
Ah,  well !  I  don't  fancy  he  '11  be  able  to  bother  us 
much.  At  any  rate,  he  is  n't  worth  talking  about 
now.  Tell  me  about  yourself." 

"  But  if  I  apologise  to  him  and  — 

"  And  make  matters  ten  times  worse.  No !  no ! 
Drop  it!  It's  best  that  way.  Now,  what  about 
your  trip?  The  matches  are  on  the  table  behind 
you,  and  there 's  some  reputed  tobacco  in  that  jar 


24  Dr.  Dale 

on  the  mantel.  Or  would  you  rather  have  a  cigar? 
You  wrote  that  Miss  Bell  had  arrived  safely  after  a 
pleasant  voyage.  Did  you  find  her  much  changed?" 

"  Only  that  her  skirts  have  gone  down  and  her 
hair  has  gone  up  during  the  past  four  years.  For 
the  rest  she  is  pretty  much  the  same.  By  the  way, 
she  's  coming  here  a  week  from  Thursday." 

"  Here  !  to  Pitvale  !     Not  to  live?  " 

"  For  a  visit  of  some  months,  at  any  rate.  It 's 
time  I  had  some  good  of  her.  She  is  all  I  have  in 
the  world." 

"  That  will  be  rather  a  violent  change  for  her," 
remarked  Dale.  "  Four  years  in  Europe  with  her 
uncle  and  aunt,  spent  in  sight-seeing  and  society,  is 
a  far  cry  from  slack-baked  Pitvale  with  little  com- 
pany except  her  big  brother." 

"  Oh  !  we  '11  give  her  a  rattling  good  time  !  "  confi- 
dently. "  She  '11  stay  with  me,  of  course.  I  have 
thought  it  all  over.  I  '11  get  Mrs.  Bowersox  to 
'  make  over  to  us  j'intly,'  as  Captain  Cuttle  says, 
one  of  the  '  pair  of  parlours '  she  keeps  shut  up 
except  when  there  is  a  funeral  or  wedding  on  hand 
—  and  she  has  had  neither  in  ten  years.  The  front 
room  will  be  the  better  of  the  two.  It  is  exactly 
opposite  my  study,  you  know.  Myrtle  will  make 
another  place  of  it  by  walking  through  it  twice.  She 
has  a  genius  for  home-making  and  all  that.  It  will 
be  like  the  dear  old  days  when  we  were  all  in  all  to 
each  other.  We  will  renew  our  youth.  She  isn't 
a  bit  spoiled  by  her  four  years  of  travel.  She  's  just 
the  same  sweet,  unaffected,  jolly  little  sister  she  was 
when  I  played  the  big  brother,  and  she  was  my 
humble,  adoring  slave  who  could  yet  twist  me  round 
the  least  of  her  fingers.  She  looked  up  to  me  as  her 
superior  in  rank.  Somehow  our  positions  seem  rather 
reversed  now.  And  I  say,  old  man,  you  '11  drop  in 
upon  us  every  evening,  and  as  often  as  you  can 


In  the  Doctor's  Sanctum     25 

besides,  and  consider  yourself  one  of  the  family, 
won't  you?  I  count  you  in  for  every  good  time  I 
promise  myself.  Oh,  but  it  is  grand  to  think  of 
having  a  real  home  again  after  a  century  or  two  of 
boarding-house  life !  " 

Dr.  Dale  did  not  answer  at  once.  He  seemed  not 
to  have  heard  the  appeal  to  himself.  Chin  on  hand, 
he  sat  looking  into  the  fire.  Tiny  flames  were  re- 
flected in  his  eyes ;  the  flickering  gleams  brought  out 
lines  in  his  face  that  were  not  there  awhile  ago.  He 
looked  haggard  and  worn ;  the  eyes  that  were  brown 
when  he  smiled  were  black  and  tired,  and  there  were 
dark  shadows  under  them.  The  man  had  aged 
within  an  hour. 

Bell,  happy  in  planning  for  the  new  life,  took  no 
heed  of  the  other's  abstraction  until  Dale  said  curtly : 

"  It  must  be  !  " 

"What  must  be?"  asked  the  puzzled  brother,  ar- 
rested in  his  castle-building. 

"  It  must  be  good,  as  you  say,  to  have  a  home  of 
one's  very  own." 

Something  hopeless  yet  wistful  in  his  accent  made 
Bell  look  more  closely  at  him. 

"Where  was  your  early  home,  Dale?"  he  said 
tentatively. 

"  I  never  had  one !  "  was  the  quiet  rejoinder. 

A  woman  would  have  offered  verbal,  probably  tan- 
gible, sympathy.  Being  a  man,  a  strong  man  and  a 
friend,  Bell  made  no  reply. 

Dr.  Dale  seldom  cared  to  talk  of  himself.  His 
familiar  acquaintances,  and  even  John  Bell,  his  one 
intimate  associate,  knew  next  to  nothing  of  his  past. 
Always  ready  to  hear  and  to  allay  the  perplexities  of 
others,  he  was  by  habit,  and  perhaps  by  nature,  reti- 
cent in  all  that  concerned  him  personally. 

It  came  as  a  surprise  to  Bell,  therefore,  when  after 
a  pause  Dale  went  on : 


26  Dr.  Dale 

"No!  I  never  had  a  home.  I  —  I  have  been  — 
virtually  alone  almost  ever  since  I  can  recollect  being 
at  all.  There  was  no  one  to  care  if  I  rose  or  if  I 
sank,  if  I  went  or  came,  if  I  were  well  or  ill.  That 
sort  of  thing  is  bad  enough  when  one  is  a  child. 
A  boy  minds  it  less.  When  a  fellow  grows  older  he 
misses  the  memory  of  a  restraining  hand,  of  some 
one  who  once  loved  him,  of  a  place  in  the  household 
that  was  his  very  own  and  from  which  he  would  be 
missed.  All  these  things  go  to  make  up  home  for  a 
boy.  I  had  none  of  them." 

There  was  no  bitterness,  and  still  less  of  complaint, 
in  the  cold  monotone.  It  was  as  if  he  set  forth  an 
impersonal  fact. 

Again  Bell  had  no  word  of  sympathy,  and  the  two 
men  sat  silent,  looking  into  the  throbbing  scarlet 
deeps  of  the  fire.  The  wind  without  was  almost  a 
gale ;  the  shutters  strained  and  creaked  dismally. 
Little  eddies  of  gray  and  white  ash  were  stirred  up 
and  danced  and  hovered  over  the  coals,  as  a  wander- 
ing blast  swept  down  the  chimney. 

Dale  was  blowing  rings  of  smoke  into  the  air,  crit- 
ically inspecting  each  floating  bluish  circle,  as  if  think- 
ing to  read  some  vital  secret  framed  therein. 

"  Yes,"  he  resumed  after  a  while,  the  monotone 
softening  into  dreamy  cadences,  "  I  missed  all  that. 
I  think  I  never  quite  knew  what  I  had  missed  until," 
pausing  until  the  circling  smoke  leaving  his  lips 
broke  and  dispersed,  "  until  I  ran  across  a  real 
home  once." 

"Here?" 

"  No.  In  the  Tennessee  mountains.  It  was  a 
composite  mansion  of  mud,  boards,  and  stone. 
There  were,  I  believe,  five  rooms  in  all.  One  was 
what  New  England  people  call  a  '  lean-to,'  built  of 
unpainted  pine  clapboards.  It  had  not  been  lathed 
or  plastered  or  ceiled.  An  old  woman  who  had 


In  the  Doctors  Sanctum      27 

been  bedridden  for  years,  and  her  daughter,  lived  in 
the  house.  The  daughter  was  nurse,  housekeeper, 
and  hostess,  all  in  one.  The  furniture  of  the  five 
rooms  might  have  cost  twenty-five  dollars  when  new, 
if  it  ever  was  new.  All  the  same,  the  poor  place  was 
a  Home,  with  a  capital  H." 

"  I  did  not  know  you  had  ever  lived  in  Tennessee." 

"  I  did  n't  live  there.  I  suffered  and  nearly  died 
there.  I  was  passing  through  the  State,  and  hap- 
pened upon  a  mining-camp  away  up  in  the  Cumber- 
land Mountains.  Just  at  that  time  one  of  the  mines 
caved  in.  A  lot  of  men  were  about  a  hundred  feet 
below  the  surface  when  the  alarm  was  given.  Nobody 
dared  to  take  the  cage  down  for  them.  At  last  one 
fellow  volunteered  for  the  job.  He  made  four  trips 
and  saved  the  whole  gang.  On  the  last  journey  the 
car  got  stuck  somehow  on  the  way  up  and  careened 
suddenly.  The  fellow  tumbled  out  and  got  pretty 
well  smashed  to  pieces.  I  happened  to  be  in  the 
mine  at  the  time  —  " 

"  And  you  happen  to  be  trying  to  lie  to  me  now, 
and  a  preciously  awkward  business  you  are  making 
of  it!"  broke  in  Bell.  "What's  the  use  of  saying 
you  'happened'  to  be  there?  You  were  the  man 
who  took  the  cage  down  for  the  poor  fellows  and 
saved  them.  Confess  it !  " 

"  There  was  no  one  else  to  do  it,"  with  the  air  of 
a  man  caught  red-handed  in  a  felony.  "  Somebody 
had  to,  you  know,"  he  added  apologetically.  "  Well, 
I  was  badly  hurt,  and  I  lay  there  in  the  dark  at  the 
bottom  of  the  shaft  all  night.  The  shoring  over  my 
head  bulged  more  and  more  every  hour.  I  could 
see  it  against  the  lighter  sky  above.  I  knew  it  would 
give  way,  sooner  or  later,  and  let  down  a  few  thousand 
tons  of  dirt  and  rock  upon  me.  I  was  lying  helpless, 
and  could  n't  even  roll  to  one  side." 

"  Well !  "  said  John,  impatiently. 


28  Dr.  Dale 

The  narrator  had  begun  to  blow  rings  again,  as  if 
he  had  finished  the  tale  of  adventure. 

"  Well,  there  was  an  old-fashioned  thunder-storm 
that  night,  and  the  reverberations  shook  the  walls  of 
the  shaft,  and  bits  of  gravel  and  earth  kept  tumbling 
down  on  my  face  and  body  from  between  the  boards 
of  the  shoring,  and  the  boards  seemed  to  bulge  and 
sag  a  little  more  after  each  thunder-crash.  It  was  n't 
nice  to  lie  there  like  that." 

"  But  how —  ?  "  for  there  was  another  tantalising 
break  in  the  story. 

"  Oh,  they  hauled  me  out  next  morning,  and  that 
blessed  shoring  did  n't  give  way,  after  all.  But  I  was 
a  human  wreck,  and  my  hair  was  n't  black  any  more. 
It  had  n't  exactly  grown 

'  white 

In  a  single  night, 
As  men's  have  done  from  sudden  fears,' 

but  it  was  as  gray  as  you  see  it  now." 

"  And  they  let  you  lie  there  all  night,  in  danger,  — 
the  men  you  had  saved  !  " 

"  I  have  never  found  my  fellow-man  a  particularly 
grateful  beast,  certainly  not  that  sort  of  him  that 
lives  near  to  nature's  heart.  But  I  was  telling  you 
of  that  Home." 

"  With  the  capital  H  ?  " 

"  With  the  capital  H  !  Nobody  wanted  to  take  in 
an  injured  stranger  who  did  n't  look  very  prosperous. 
At  last  a  girl  came  forward  and  said  she  'd  take  care 
of  me  in  her  mother's  house.  It  was  the  house  I  told 
you  of.  She  was  a  born  nurse  —  that  girl !  I  verily 
believe  she  saved  my  life.  They  were  poor,  but  they 
would  n't  hear  of  my  paying  them  a  cent  for  what 
was  done  for  me.  I  lay  all  summer  —  three  mortal 
months  —  on  a  cot  in  that  lean-to,  before  I  could 
travel.  They  treated  me  like  one  of  their  own 


In  the  Doctors  Sanctum      29 

family.  I  mended  fast  when  I  was  able  to  hobble  to 
the  door  and  lie  on  the  grass  under  the  trees  and  fill 
my  lungs  with  the  mountain  air.  I  thought  it  was 
Heaven  at  the  time ;  I  see  now  it  was  only  Home." 

"The  two  words  are  not  far  from  being  synonymes," 
observed  Bell. 

"  I  Ve  thought  sometimes,"  continued  the  doctor, 
musingly,  "  that  maybe  I  'd  go  back  there  some  day. 
You  see,  the  girl  — " 

He  brought  himself  up  testily. 

"  What  an  ass  I  am  to  bore  you  with  all  this  stuff! 
An  egotistical  ass  !  " 

"  You  don't  bore  me  —  and  you  are  talking  stuff 
now !  Do  you  ever  hear  from  them,  the  mother 
and  the  daughter?" 

Dale  nodded,  reaching  backward  to  the  table  for  a 
fresh  cigar. 

"  I  could  scarcely  drop  them  after  all  they  did  for 
me,  you  know.  I  'm  not  quite  a  brute.  And  now, 
if  you  are  warmed  through,  there  are  some  Club 
matters  I'd  like  to  talk  over  with  you." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  MIDDLE  MISS  MEAGLEY 

"  Olivia.  But  we  will  draw  the  curtain  and  show  you  the  picture. 
...  Is  't  not  well  done  ? 

"  Viola.  Excellently  done,  if  God  did  all  ...  I  see  you  what 
you  are :  you  are  too  proud !  But,  if  you  were  the  devil,  you  are 
fair ! " 

MRS.  BOWERSOX  was  cleaning  house. 
When  you  have  heard  that  Mrs.  Bower- 
sox   was    the    offspring    of   well-to-do 
Hollanders  who  had  settled  in  Pennsyl- 
vania early  in   life;    that  Sarepta,  their 
only  daughter,  was  trained  in  all  housewifely  godli- 
ness by  her  mother,  and  lived  to  be  forty-five  years 
of  age    before    she   wedded    Joachim   Bowersox,  — 
you  will    comprehend,  although    afar   off,  what  this 
especial  rite  meant  to  her,  if  not  what  it  imparted  to 
her  assistants. 

There  were  three  of  these  unfortunates  on  this  par- 
ticular day,  —  Gretchen,  "  the  second  girl ;  "  Corne- 
lius (otherwise  "  Case  "  )  Van  Wagenen,  a  farm-hand 
in  summer,  a  general-utility  man  in  winter,  and  last, 
and  least  as  to  weight  and  consequence,  the  nominal 
head  of  the  house.  The  corps  was  noisily  supple- 
mented by  Master  Thomas  Jefferson  Bowersox,  an 
urchin  of  five  summers,  with  hair  like  a  tangle  of 
gold-coloured  floss,  eyes  as  blue  as  Lake  Como,  the 
face  of  a  stainless  and  unstainable  cherub,  and  a 
temper  as  bland  as  refined  oil  in  the  absence  of 
provocation  —  otherwise,  matches. 

Jeff  had  prepared  for  the  crusade  against  impal- 
pable dust,  imaginary  fluff,  and  inconceivable  vermin 


The  Middle  Miss  Meagley    31 

by  enduing  his  plump  person  with  white  cotton  over- 
alls made  after  the  Club  pattern.  His  mother  had  cut 
them  out  and  run  them  up  on  the  sewing-machine 
yesterday,  as  the  one  and  only  means  of  securing  a 
measurable  degree  of  household  quiet.  Jeff  had 
arisen  at  a  ghastly  hour  of  the  as  yet  unsunned  day 
to  get  into  the  garment,  then  stolen  into  the  kitchen 
at  six  o'clock,  while  Anneke,  the  cook,  was  skimming 
milk  in  the  buttery,  climbed  upon  a  table  and  raised 
himself  on  tiptoe  to  put  the  hands  of  the  tall  old 
clock  that  had  been  his  grandfather's  forward  one 
hour  and  thirteen  minutes. 

"  And  Anneke,  poor  thing !  never  misgiving  what 
he  had  done,  hurried  up  the  breakfast  so  that  the  bell 
rang  while  Dr.  Dale  was  shaving  and  woke  poor,  dear 
Mr.  Bell  out  of  a  sound  sleep,  and  he  up  at  all  hours 
of  the  night  in  his  study  !  As  I  was  just  telling  Jeff, 
if  they  had  n't  two  of  the  sweetest  tempers  ever  made, 
there 's  no  saying  what  might  have  happened  to  a 
naughty  little  boy  who  is  everlastingly  mortifying  his 
poor  mother." 

While  the  mortified  parent  discoursed,  she  was 
scrubbing  the  carvings  of  the  high  mantel  with  a 
brush  dipped  in  soft  soap  of  her  own  making  and  two 
years  old.  Uncontrite  Jeff  was  going  through  the 
like  motions  upon  the  window-sill  with  his  unsus- 
pecting father's  tooth-brush  feloniously  abstracted 
from  his  wash-stand.  The  juvenile  toiler's  head  was 
cocked  smartly  to  the  right ;  a  small  red  tongue  wag- 
gled over  his  chin  in  the  energy  of  bodily  exercise  so 
engrossing  that  he  paid  no  attention  to  the  indict- 
ment brought  against  him. 

The  confidante  of  the  latest  evidence  of  original 
and  inbred  sin  sat,  composed  and  idle,  in  the  easiest 
chair  of  the  parlour  "  set,"  regardless  of  the  hostess's 
warning  that  she  would  be  "  all  over  dust." 

"  It  passes  me  how  dust  gets  in&  a  room  that  is 


32  Dr.  Dale 

shut  up  all  the  time  !  "  she  plained.  "  To  say  noth- 
ing of  the  furniture  being  sheeted  and  pinned  up 
until  you  'd  think  not  a  grain  of  dirt  could  get  at  it. 
Just  two  weeks  ago  yesterday  I  and  Gretchen,  poor 
thing !  went  over  every  inch  of  this  room  upon  our 
bended  knees.  I  'm  not  likely  to  forget  it  when 
that  very  afternoon  Jeff  —  poor  dear  !  —  backed 
over  a  pail  and  sat  down  in  the  dirty  suds,  and  but 
for  the  mercy  of  its  having  stood  so  long  that  the 
heat  was  off,  there 's  no  saying  what  might  have 
happened." 

The  young  lady  in  the  easy-chair  laughed  carelessly. 
"  Come  here,  Jeff,  and  let  me  see  how  many  scars 
you  've  got  since  I  saw  you  last." 

The  child  laid  aside  the  brush  and  advanced  in  all 
seriousness. 

"That's  one!"  he  lisped,  lowering  his  head  to 
show  a  bloody  scratch  on  the  roll  of  fat  at  the  back 
of  his  neck.  "  Kitty  did  that  'cause  I  was  carrying 
her  kittens  off  in  my  apron.  There 's  one  on  this 
knee  —  that  makes  two  —  where  I  felled  off  the  horse- 
block, and  'nother  on  this.  That 's  free  !  That  was 
the  cellar  steps.  I  can't  show  them  to  you,  all  on 
account  of  the  overalls,  you  know.  But  there  's  a 
bully  place  on  my  head.  'Most  well,  you  see,"  — 
parting  the  sunshiny  curls.  "That  was  a-coasting 
down  the  hill.  Sled  banged  'gainst  a  tree.  Dr.  Dale 
thoughted  first  he  would  have  to  sew  it  up.  But  he 
just  shaved  the  hair  off  and  stick-plastered  it.  There 
ain't  but  four  of  'em  in  all." 

"  You  '11  be  the  death    of  me,  you  funny  boy !  " 
shrieked  the  visitor,  holding  her  sides  in  a  ladylike 
way.     "  You  keep  Dr.  Dale  busy,  don't  you?  " 
"  You  bet !  " 

The  cherubic  infant  was  back  at  his  work,  head 
awry  and  tongue  lolling.  Time  was  too  precious  for 
anything  but  monosyllables. 


The  Middle  Miss  Meagley    33 

The  mother's  sly,  proud  glance  would  have  been 
absurd  had  it  been  less  natural  and  loving.  She 
affected  to  frown,  and  put  an  edge  upon  her  amiable 
drawl. 

"  Kate  Meagley !  you  're  as  bad  as  any  of  them ! 
I  see  nothing  to  laugh  at  in  a  boy  that  keeps  his 
poor  mother  uneasy  every  single  hour  he  's  awake, 
with  his  capers  and  his  hurts.  Some  day  he  '11  break 
his  neck,  and  what  then?  " 

"  Dr.  Dale  will  mend  it !  "  retorted  Jeff,  rubbing 
the  wet  sill  so  dry  with  the  sleeve  of  his  overalls 
that  his  palpitating  tongue  overhung  the  dimple  in 
his  chin. 

Miss  Meagley  clapped  her  hands.  The  mother 
beamed  broadly. 

"  He  really  believes  it !  And  others  think  as 
much,  if  they  don't  say  it.  But  speaking  of  — "  a 
jerk  of  the  head  in  the  direction  of  the  apparently 
inattentive  subject  doing  discreet  duty  for  his  name 
— "  he 's  more  and  more  a  surprise  every  day  he 
lives.  It's  always  been  next  to  impossible  for  me 
to  realise  him  anyhow,  coming  so  late  in  life  as  he 
did,  and  so  extraordinary  in  every  way.  Lately 
he 's  getting  clean  beyond  me.  He  wants  a  man's 
hand  on  the  bridle,  that 's  what  he  wants  !  " 

"  I  should  n't  think  there  was  a  lack  of  that  sort  of 
thing  in  this  house,"  said  Miss  Meagley,  artlessly. 
And  yet  more  demurely,  "There  's  Uncle  Joachim, 
to  begin  with." 

"  Don't  be  a  goose,  Kate  Meagley !  You  know  as 
well  's  I  do  that  he  could  n't  bridle  a  flea !  " 

They  spoke  as  freely  as  if  Joachim  were  out  of  the 
room,  when  he  was  putting  the  last  extreme  of  polish 
upon  the  panes  of  a  window  not  five  feet  distant,  us- 
ing for  the  purpose  a  ball  of  crushed  newspaper. 

"  Mr.  Bell  says  some  fleas  can  fire  cannons,  and 
canary-birds  too,"  interpolated  Jeff,  in  such  wadded 

3 


34  Dr.  Dale 

accents  that  his  mother  pounced  upon  him  in  a 
fright. 

"  Bless  my  soul,  child !  what  have  you  got  in  your 
mouth?" 

Exploring  it  with  a  hooked  forefinger,  in  spite  of 
his  teeth,  she  produced  a  dab  of  wet  gray  matter. 

"  I  was  going  to  shine  the  other  window ! " 
spluttered  the  defrauded  assistant. 

"  Newspaper !  "  ejaculated  his  parent.  "  Don't 
you  know  printer's  ink  is  a  rank  poison?" 

"  Not  when  taken  that  way,"  said  Miss  Meagley, 
hiding  a  yawn  with  her  hand.  "  Jeff!  if  you  will  sit 
quietly  on  this  chair  by  me  for  five  minutes,  I  will 
give  you  five  peppermint  drops.  I  want  to  talk  to 
your  mother.  She  cannot  listen  or  think,  if  you 
will  keep  scaring  her  every  other  breath.  There's 
my  man  !  "  as  the  cherub  bestowed  himself  upon  the 
designated  seat.  "  Aunt  Sarepta !  I  came  over 
to-day,  for  one  thing,  to  leave  a  message  for  Dr. 
Dale.  He  isn't  at  his  office.  I  stopped  there  on 
my  way  up  town.  Will  he  be  in  at  dinner-time?" 

"  Maybe  so,  maybe  not.  There 's  no  counting 
upon  his  going-outs  and  coming-ins  any  more  than 
there  is  upon  death." 

"  If  he  should  be,  will  you  ask  him  to  call  some- 
time this  afternoon  or  evening?  Ruth  has  a  cold, 
and  I  don't  like  to  let  it  run  on.  We  can't  take  risks 
with  her." 

"  It 's  just  beautiful,  the  care  you  take  of  her !  "  said 
Mrs.  Bowersox,  feelingly.  "  'Seems-if  going  through 
so  much  together  as  you  two  did,  that  dreadful  time, 
had  j'ined  you  for  life,  poor  dear  cre'turs  !  It 's  like 
'  for  better,  for  worse,'  as  I  was  saying  to  Mr.  Bell  only 
last  night.  You  ought  to  count  it  a  privilege  that  you 
can  make  up  to  the  poor  afflicted  dear  for  what  she  's 
lost.  Dear  !  dear  !  When  you  think  of  what  she  was 
and  what  she  is,  it  is  enough  to  break  your  heart." 


The  Middle  Miss  Meagley    35 

"  You  'd  like  to  have  Dr.  Dale  mend  your  heart,  if 
't  was  broked,  would  n't  you?"  queried  the  terrible 
iniant,  squirming  so  abruptly  to  stare  into  his  cousin's 
face  that  she  plucked  him  from  his  perch  and  de- 
posited him  upon  the  floor  with  needless  energy.  He 
did  not  remit  his  stare. 

"  What  makes  your  face  so  red  ?  I  should  n't 
wonder  if  you  have  a  scarlet  fever,  or  maybe  a 
measle,"  he  hazarded  solemnly,  standing  stock-still 
where  she  had  dumped  him. 

Gretchen  tittered;  the  utility-man  chuckled  over 
the  sofa  he  was  trundling  from  one  side  of  the  room 
to  the  other;  the  one  eye  out  of  which  Joachim 
looked  over  his  shoulder  at  his  son  and  heir 
twinkled ;  Mrs.  Bowersox  with  difficulty  narrowed 
her  ample  cheeks  to  an  expression  of  rebukeful 
indignation. 

"  Tut !  tut !  sonny !  that 's  no  way  to  speak  to  a 
lady !  She  's  been  walking  in  the  wind,  and  it  has 
given  her  a  fine  colour.  If  you  don't  learn  not  to 
stare  at  people  and  make  remarks,  there 's  no  saying 
what  will  happen  now  we  're  going  to  have  a  young 
lady  of  our  own  in  the  house." 

"  Mr.  Bell  was  telling  us  about  his  sister  last  night." 
Miss  Meagley  welcomed  the  change  of  topics.  "  Is  n't 
it  funny  for  a  society  girl  to  be  coming  to  Pitvale  — 
away  from  New  York !  in  the  depth  of  winter?  " 

"  Just  what  I  was  saying  to  Mr.  Bell !  "  responded 
her  aunt.  "  There 's  precious  little  in  Pitvale  to 
please  a  young  lady  that's  been  all  over  the  world, 
and  is  accomplished,  no  doubt,  and  speaking,  maybe, 
as  many  as  a  dozen  languages,  and  used,  as  you  say, 
to  gay  society  and  every  luxury.  I  had  a  real 
purpletation  of  the  heart  at  the  thought  that  I  had  n't, 
so  to  speak,  cleaned  house  since  November.  She  '11 
be  here  a-Thursday,  and  there  's  oceans  of  work  to 
be  done  between  now  and  then.  They  're  to  have 


36  Dr.  Dale 

this  for  their  private  sitting-room.  I  ought,  by  rights, 
to  have  the  carpet  lifted  and  beaten,  but  Mr.  Bell, 
poor,  thoughtful  dear !  set  his  foot  down  on  that." 

"  On  the  carpet?  "  slipped  in  the  guest,  with  kitten- 
ish drollery,  wasted  upon  the  literal  housewife. 

"  He  actually  remembered  the  very  day  it  was  put 
down  in  November.  And  says  he,  '  I  shall  be  really 
displeased  and  hurt  if  you  put  yourself  to  unnecessary 
trouble  for  my  sister,  Mrs.  Bowersox.  She  has  n't 
seen  such  a  spick-and-span  house  as  yours  in  ten 
years/  he  says.  '  All  you  need  to  do  is  to  have  her 
bed  made  and  water  and  towels  in  her  room,  and  a 
good  fire  in  her  parlour,  —  a  wood-fire,  please!  I'll 
pay  for  it.  And  room  in  there  where  she  can  put 
a  few  books  and  gimcracks  she  has  brought  for  me.' 
That's  all  a  man  knows  about  housekeeping!  I 
declare  I  had  to  laugh  in  his  face !  " 

Miss  Meagley  listened  so  attentively  as  to  be  un- 
aware that  Jeff,  stationed  a  little  in  the  rear  of  her 
chair,  was  laboriously  quilting  a  fold  of  her  skirt  with 
a  pin  into  the  stuffed  back. 

"Is  she  much  younger  than  Mr.  Bell?"  she  in- 
quired. "  He  talks  of  her  as  if  she  were  hardly  out 
of  her  teens." 

"  She  is  just  twenty,  so  he  told  me.  But  a  well- 
grown,  fine-looking  young  lady,  judging  from  her 
picture.  Just  wait  a  minute !  Gretchen,  if  you  Ve 
finished  the  paint,  do  you  and  Case  take  the  chairs, 
one  by  one,  into  the  hall,  and  brush  every  speck  of 
dust  out  of  the  seats  and-  backs,  'specially  where  the 
buttons  are." 

She  tiptoed  briskly  from  the  room.  For  a  woman 
of  fifty-three  who  brought  down  the  scales  at  one 
hundred  and  ninety-five,  her  movements  were  re- 
markably agile,  her  step  light.  She  was  neither  flat- 
footed  nor  lumbering.  In  a  minute  she  was  back, 
bringing  a  framed  picture  in  both  careful  hands. 


The  Middle  Miss  Meagley     37 

"  She  brought  it  to  him  from  Flowerence,"  she 
said,  steadying  it  upon  her  niece's  knee.  "  He  keeps 
it  on  his  desk  right  before  his  eyes,  poor  fellow ! 
Ain't  she  a  beauty?" 

Kate  Meagley  was  not  sentimental  or  romantic, 
although  she  tried  with  all  her  might  to  look  both. 
She  believed  to  the  end  of  her  days  that  the  qualm 
which  pumped  the  colour  from  her  lips  and  the 
blood  from  her  heart  until  her  feet  were  clay-cold 
and  the  fingers  holding  the  frame  were  so  tremulous 
that  she  had  to  steady  her  arm  on  the  elbow  of  the 
chair  to  get  a  full  look  at  the  pictured  face,  was  a 
presentiment. 

Her  mother  considered  her  the  beauty,  par  Emi- 
nence, among  her  five  daughters.  She  was  unques- 
tionably the  clever  one  of  the  family.  Her  figure 
mother  and  sisters  called  "  willowy,"  her  manners 
"fascinating."  The  "baby  stare"  of  the  bluish-gray 
eyes  they  thought  bewitchingly  appealing.  The  bow 
of  the  short  upper  lip  rested  so  lightly  upon  the  lower 
and  fuller  that  she  seemed  always  on  the  point  of 
speaking.  Lawless  Ralph  Folger  said  of  his  sister's 
companion  that  "  her  mouth  was  forever  at  half- 
cock."  The  perfect  arch  of  her  eyebrows  followed 
the  round  of  her  raised  lids,  as  she  talked. 

Two  sisters  had  preceded  her  into  the  world,  and 
two  had  come  after  her.  One  of  the  sayings  that 
gained  her  a  household  reputation  as  a  wit  was  her 
designation  of  herself  as  "  the  Middle  Miss  Meagley." 
Her  father  was  a  prosperous  farmer  and  gristmill 
owner  when  she  was  old  enough  to  "  take  an  educa- 
tion." She  was  sent  to  a  fashionable  boarding-school 
in  Philadelphia,  where  Fate  did  her  a  kind  turn  in 
assigning  her  as  a  room-mate  to  Ruth  Folger. 

The  Folgers  were  even  then  the  richest  people  of 
the  section.  When  oil  was  struck  at  fifty  points  on 
their  large  farm,  they  became  forthwith  millionaires. 


38  Dr.  Dale 

The  Meagleys  were  ruined  by  the  same  "  boom." 
The  father,  hitherto  the  most  phlegmatic  man  in  the 
conservative  Dutch  neighbourhood,  dashed  into  spec- 
ulation, as  a  roadster  becomes  a  runaway  at  an  un- 
expected minute,  and,  like  the  roadster,  he  ran  with 
both  eyes  shut.  He  would  sink  wells  at  his  own 
charges,  locating  them  according  to  a  secret  system 
of  his  own  devising.  Money  was  raised  for  the  wild 
ventures  by  mortgaging  his  ancestral  acres  when  the 
savings  of  years  were  exhausted  by  bills  for  tubing, 
drills,  derricks,  and  gangs  of  high-priced  labourers. 
Out  of  twelve  wells  sunk  in  formerly  productive 
fields  but  two  yielded  a  drop  of  oil,  and  these,  it 
was  proved  within  a  month,  were  merely  shallow 
"  pockets,"  soon  and  utterly  pumped  dry.  He  was 
at  the  last  gasp  of  hope  when  the  fatal  freshet  that 
quenched  the  light  of  twenty  human  lives  descended 
upon  his  homestead,  levelling  it  to  the  soil  which  had 
of  late  been  so  obdurate  to  his  desires.  He  and  his 
family  barely  escaped  with  their  lives. 

Katharine  Meagleyand  Ruth  Folgerwere  snatched 
by  the  heroic  rescuing  party  from  imminent  death. 
The  elder  Folger  had  died  six  months  before,  after  a 
widowerhood  of  ten  years.  His  son  and  daughter 
were  the  wealthiest  of  the  scores  of  speculators  who 
had  drawn  prizes  in  the  oil-lottery.  When  the  scat- 
tered Meagleys  found  one  another  after  the  flood, 
they  found  also  the  dawn  of  better  days.  The  Fol- 
ger brother  and  sister  paid  off  their  mortgages,  and 
settled  upon  Mr.  Meagley  a  sum  sufficient  to  rebuild 
his  houses  and  restock  his  farm. 

The  ravening  for  drill,  pump,  and  derrick  awoke 
mightily  within  him  at  sight  of  the  money.  He 
"  plunged  "  with  the  madness  of  a  stock-gambler  on  a 
rising  market.  Guided  by  a  hazel-wand,  cut  at  the 
full  of  the  moon  at  midnight  by  himself,  with  incanta- 
tions known  to  none  else,  he  sank  ten  other  wells  as 


The  Middle  Miss  Meagley     39 

barren  as  the  first  twelve.  His  last  dollar  went  into 
a  hole  in  a  hill-top  which,  as  we  shall  see  later  on  in 
our  story,  furnished  a  never-stale  joke  to  oil-pro- 
spectors throughout  the  land. 

Excitement  and  failures,  the  reproaches  of  the 
family  he  had  ruined,  and  lastly,  the  ridicule  of  a 
heartless  public,  were  too  much  for  a  never-strong 
brain.  At  sixty,  the  victim  of  the  petroleum  craze 
was  a  semi-imbecile,  to  be  looked  after  like  a  peevish 
child  by  those  who  were  unable  to  support  them- 
selves. Ambitious  and  false  hopes  had  made  his 
children  useless  and  supercilious  until  aspiration  and 
expectation  flickered  into  darkness.  They  were 
shabby-genteel  pensioners  upon  more  fortunate  neigh- 
bours and  the  relatives  they  had  despised  in  the 
"  better  days "  continually  upon  their  tongues. 

Joachim  Bowersox,  whose  sister  Timothy  Meagley 
had  married,  made  over  to  her  a  house  and  garden 
in  Pitvale  which  had  been  part  of  their  father's  estate. 
It  was  one  of  the  mercies  for  which  Mrs.  Bowersox 
returned  thanks  without  ceasing  that  nobody  had  ever 
suspected  the  presence  of  what  she  termed,  with 
unintentional  alliteration,  '  that  orful  oil,'  upon  the 
property  owned  by  her,  and,  before  her,  by  steady, 
sensible  folk  who  feared  God  and  eschewed  such  evils 
as  digging  in  good  farm  lands  for  what  the  Almighty 
had  seen  fit  to  bury  out  of  sight.  Nevertheless  it 
was  she  who  suggested  the  deed  of  gift  to  her  unfor- 
tunate sister-in-law,  and  not  a  syllable  ever  escaped 
her  voluble  lips  in  conversation  with  any  member  of 
the  humbled  family  which  could  remind  her  of  the 
father's  folly. 

Between  the  Folgers  and  the  Bowersoxes,  the  wo- 
men and  their  hapless  burden  were  housed,  clothed, 
and  fed,  —  bounty  accepted  by  the  beneficiaries  as 
part,  and  but  a  small  part,  of  the  world's  debt  to 
them.  Ruth  Folgei  had  kept  her  old  school-fellow 


40  Dr.  Dale 

with  her  since  the  misfortune  that  crippled  the  heiress 
for  life.  The  gossips,  as  a  body,  believed  that  Kate 
was  provided  for  handsomely  for  the  remainder  of  her 
natural  existence,  and  were  unanimous  in  the  opinion 
that  she  had  fallen  squarely  upon  her  feet  the  night 
that  cost  Ruth  Folger  one  of  hers. 

It  was  not  a  satisfied,  much  less  a  happy  woman 
whose  skirt  Jeff  was  fastening  securely,  with  pins 
taken  from  the  sheeted  furniture,  to  the  best  brocade 
chair  in  his  mother's  front  parlour.  The  wearer  was 
absorbed  in  the  study  of  Myrtle  Bell's  picture.  It 
was  painted  upon  ivory,  and  exquisite  in  execution, 
lifelike  in  expression. 

"  Looks-if  it  must  be  the  very  image  of  her,"  com- 
mented Mrs.  Bowersox,  going  on  with  her  scrub- 
bing. "  You  can  see  the  resemblance  to  her  brother, 
particularly  about  the  eyes;  though,  for  that  matter, 
you  could  n't  tell  about  the  mouth,  his  being  covered 
by  his  beard." 

"/should  n't  call  her  pretty,  all  the  same,"  Kate 
could  not  help  saying  out  of  the  strange  pain  that 
had  clutched  her  heart.  "  Of  course,  it  is  beautifully 
done.  The  eyes  have  a  sort  of  bold  look, —  some- 
thing that  says  she  is  used  to  admiration  and 
expects  it.  She  has  quite  the  air  of  a  society  girl. 
I  'm  afraid  she  "11  find  Pitvale  awfully  slow.  I  don't 
suppose  there  are  ten  families  here  she  'd  be  willing 
to  visit  with." 

She  was  talking  against  thought.  Mrs.  Bowersox 
did  not  surmise  the  effort  it  cost  her  to  appear 
calmly  critical  when  she  would  have  liked  to  throw 
the  presentment  of  the  spirited,  high-bred  face  upon 
the  floor  and  dash  her  heel  through  it.  The  rich 
but  simple  costume  was  artistically  indicated,  not 
given  in  tawdry  detail.  A  velvet  corsage  of  dull  Vene- 
tian red  was  softened  by  a  scarf  of  old  lace  looped 
upon  one  shoulder  by  a  single  rose  of  darker  red. 


The  Middle  Miss  Meagley    41 

The  effect  of  the  whole  was  to  show  the  critic  to  her- 
self as  a  provincial  dowdy.  And  this,  despite  the 
cashmere  gown  chosen  because  Dr.  Dale  had  ad- 
mired that  particular  shade  of  golden  brown,  and 
made  up  by  a  Philadelphia  modiste.  Her  velvet 
toque  of  the  same  colour,  the  tawny  pheasant's 
breast  banding  it  shading  into  black,  was  in  perfect 
taste.  Ruth  Folger  had  said  so,  and  her  judgment 
was  indisputable.  The  costume  would  have  become 
a  warm  brunette;  a  decided  blonde  of  brilliant  com- 
plexion might  have  carried  it  off  successfully.  The 
Middle  Miss  Meagley,  belonging  to  the  great  ma- 
jority of  women  who  are  neither  brunette  nor  blonde, 
thus  arrayed,  was  a  picture  done  in  poorly  managed 
sepia  washes. 

The  antique  silver  frame  —  an  artistic  treasure, 
although  this  she  did  not  suspect — seemed  to  burn 
her  fingers.  She  sickened  in  gazing  at  what  it 
enclosed.  She  laid  it  down  hastily  upon  a  sofa 
near  by. 

"  I  must  go  now,  Aunt  Sarepta !  "  shaking  off  the 
queer  possession  and  speaking  in  her  usual  tone. 
"  You  won't  forget  my  message  to  the  doctor?  And 
I  do  hope  Miss  Bell  won't  put  you  to  much  more 
trouble !  It  seems  a  pity  to  have  your  house  upset 
in  this  way  in  such  disagreeable  weather.  Some 
travelled  people  are  disgustingly  full  of  foreign  airs 
and  graces,  but  maybe  this  one  is  n't." 

Starting  to  her  feet,  she  raised  the  heavy  chair 
with  her.  Result,  a  zigzag  tear  across  the  front 
breadth  of  the  skirt  whose  colour  Dr.  Dale  had  com- 
mended, the  unpaid  bill  for  which  she  had  received 
that  morning. 


CHAPTER  V 

MYRTLE  BELL 

"  With  breath  of  thyme  and  bees  that  hum, 
Across  the  years  you  seem  to  come ; 
Across  the  years,  with  nymph-like  head, 
And  wind-blown  brows  unfilleted, 
A  girlish  form  that  slips  the  bud, 
In  lines  of  unspoiled  symmetry, 
A  girlish  form  that  stirs  the  blood 
With  pulse  of  Spring  —  Autinoe !  " 

MYRTLE  BELL  stood  at  the  front  win- 
dow of  her  sitting-room,  looking  down 
upon  Pitvale  and,  across  it,  to  the  en- 
vironing   hills.      The   January   sunlight 
made  cruel  disclosures  of  the  peculiarly 
unlovely  features  of  the  view.     Roads  and  houses  in 
the  collieries  of  England  and  Wales  were  as  grimy 
and  as  mean  as  the  shabbiest  sheds  crowding  upon 
one  another  in  the  lower  levels  of  the  town.     The 
pitchy  smoke   vomited  by   towering  chimneys    and 
pipes    belonged    to     every    manufacturing    village. 
The  forest  of  spidery  derricks  bewildered  her. 

"  It  was  too  dark  to  see  them  last  night,"  she  had 
said  to  her  brother  at  breakfast.  "  You  may  imagine 
the  effect  produced  upon  me  when  I  drew  up  the 
window-shade  this  morning.  For  an  instant  my  head 
went  around  like  a  top.  It  was  as  if  a  tidal  wave 
had  huddled  all  the  windmills  in  Holland  and  Lom- 
bardy  into  an  area  of  six  square  miles.  Only, 
your  giants  are  armless.  They  have  an  incomplete 
look  that  worries  me.  It  is  like  '  This  man  began 
to  build  and  was  not  able  to  finish.' " 

"  That 's  true  hereabouts  a  great  many  times !  " 
sighed  the  hostess,  shaking  a  mournful  head  at  the 
coffee-pot  she  was  tilting  over  Joachim's  third  cup. 


Myrtle  Bell  43 

Myrtle  looked  inquiringly  at  John. 

"  I  supposed  that  oil  was  one  of  the  sure  staples  of 
commerce?" 

John's  reply  had  added  distrust  to  the  disfavour 
with  which  she  now  regarded  the  hideous  structures. 

"  Success  would  be  their  only  excuse  for  being," 
she  was  saying  to  herself.  "  I  wish  I  had  not  heard 
how  many  ruined  fortunes  and  miserable  people 
they  stand  for!" 

She  was  glad  the  Bowersox  farmhouse  stood  upon 
a  hill  and  well  away  from  the  town.  Mrs.  Bowersox 
had  explained  eagerly  how  seldom  the  smell  of  raw 
petroleum  and  the  reek  of  the  engines  was  really 
disagreeable  to  her  household. 

"  Never,  you  may  say,  unless  the  wind  is  due  east 
and  brings  it  right  over  to  us.  And  most  of  our 
winds  are  north,  south,  and  west.  Otherwise  I  don't 
know  what  would  happen  to  us.  They  do  say  the 
smell  is  healthy,  especially  for  weak  lungs.  When 
they  first  began  to  bring  oil  out  of  the  flinty  rock, 
as  the  Bible  says,  it  was  used  mostly  as  an  eyent- 
ment  for  rheumatics  and  sprains  and  such.  There 
were  those  what  physicked  with  it  internal  —  poor, 
ignorant  dears !  It  was  peddled  through  the  country 
as  a  nat'ral  cure  for  pretty  nigh  everything.  For  my 
part,  after  all  is  said  and  done,  I  Ve  wished  ten  thousand 
times  we  had  stuck  to  whales  and  never  found  out  that 
the  nasty-smelly  stuff  would  burn  in  lamps." 

"  I  never  dreamed  that  kerosene  could  be  interest- 
ing," said  Myrtle,  raising  a  sunny  face  to  her  brother 
when  he  joined  her  at  the  window.  "  I  mean  to 
cultivate  its  acquaintance  in  all  its  branches.  One 
thing  puzzles  me.  An  old  guide  said  to  '  Adiron- 
dack Murray,'  that  '  folks  was  gittin'  so  thick  in  the 
woods  a  feller 'd  have  to  chalk  his  legs  to  make  sure 
they  was  n't  somebody  else's.'  How  do  the  people 
know  their  own  wells  from  their  neighbours'?  I  see 


44  Dr.  Dale 

no  fences  or  barriers  of  any  kind.  It  must  be  worse 
than  the  danger  of  milking  other  people's  cows  in 
a  grazing  country." 

Bell  put  his  arm  about  her,  and  she  leaned  her 
head  against  him.  The  very  sound  of  the  fresh 
young  voice,  the  cultivated  modulations  reviving 
memories  of  home  and  Lang  Syne  —  was  inexpres- 
sibly sweet.  It  was  impossible  not  to  stoop  to  kiss 
the  laughing  mouth. 

"  I  've  got  to  make  up  for  lost  time  !  "  he  pleaded. 
"I  hadn't  kissed  a  woman  in  three  years  until  I  met 
you  on  the  steamer,  the  other  day." 

"  Poor  boy !  Don't  apologise  !  I  like  it !  "  returned 
the  sister,  frankly.  "  And  I  like  being  here,  Jack ! 
It 's  all  so  different  from  anything  else  I  ever  saw. 
I  am  revelling  in  anticipation  of  the  larks  we  are 
going  to  have  together  —  if,  as  I  hope,  it  is  n't  really 
necessary  for  me  to  know  one  mutilated  windmill 
from  another  in  order  to  become  popular  with  your 
parishioners." 

"  My  parishioners  —  or  the  bulk  of  them  —  are 
operatives,  not  well-owners,  although  there  are  rich 
men  in  our  congregation.  They  are  a  motley  crew 
that  came  to  me  instead  of  my  going  to  look  for 
them.  My  church  —  you  can  see  the  spire  peeping 
over  the  hill  to  your  left  —  was  in  the  heart  of  an 
agricultural  region  when  -I  was  called  to  it  six  years 
ago.  The  first  well  was  sunk  that  year.  After  that, 
if  not  the  deluge,  speculators  came  in  upon  us 
like  a  flood,  and  all  our  pleasant  places  were  laid 
waste.  I  had  planned  different  things  for  myself,  but 
my  work  was  cut  out  for  me.  I  could  not  shirk  it." 

A  soft  hand  stole  up  to  his  cheek. 

"  Of  course  you  could  n't !  Go  on  !  "  said  a  gentle 
voice. 

"  It  is  a  hand-to-hand  fight  with  such  evils  as  the 
country  parson  I  expected  to  be  would  never  have 


Myrtle  Bell  45 

encountered  had  he  lived  to  be  as  old  as  Adam. 
The  wisdom  of  the  serpent  is  at  a  higher  premium  in 
Pitvale  than  the  harmlessness  of  the  dove.  Do  you 
see  a  flag  flying  over  a  peaked  roof  over  there? 
That  is  The  Bachelors'  Club.  You  heard  my  battle 
over  it  with  Dr.  Hartley  in  New  York,  the  evening  he 
dined  with  us.  I  won't  weary  you  by  going  over  the 
ground  again.  I  could  n't  make  him  see  the  subject 
from  my  standpoint,  and  there  are  many,  many 
others  like  him.  Not  being  here,  he  cannot  compre- 
hend that  we  must  adapt  our  missionary  methods  in 
some  measure  to  the  conditions  we  encounter. 

"  I  should  not  be  afraid  to  take  you  through  the 
Club  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night.  We  look  up 
decent  homes  for  unmarried  men ;  we  visit  them 
when  they  are  hurt  or  sick;  we  hob-nob  with  them 
over  the  billiard-table,  in  the  gymnasium,  the  read- 
ing-room, and  in  what  my  worthy  but  disapprov- 
ing brother  the  Rev.  Cotton  Mather  Welsh  calls 
our  '  saloon.'  If  they  are  in  trouble,  we  help  them 
out  to  the  best  of  our  ability ;  if  they  fall,  we  pick 
them  up  and  encourage  them  to  stand  — 

"  I  have  broken  my  word  to  you  !  You  should  n't 
have  said,  '  Go  on  ! ' ' 

"  I  am  glad  I  did  !  If  I  am  to  help  you,  I  must  be 
taken  into  your  confidence.  Jack  !  "  her  eyes  shining 
with  enthusiasm.  "  Do  you  know,  I  think  all  this  is 
grand?  And  that  it  came  into  my  mind  while  you 
and  Dr.  Hartley  were  talking,  the  other  night,  how 
fault  was  found  with  One  who  associated  with  publi- 
cans and  sinners,  eating  what  they  ate,  and  drinking 
what  they  drank,  and  enduring  patiently  all  sorts  of 
vulgar  and  repulsive  sinners  —  because  He  loved 
them!  I  recollect"  —  in  a  lighter  tone  —  "some- 
thing our  dear  mother  said  to  a  woman  who  would  not 
allow  her  maids  to  have  what  she  called  '  followers ' 
in  her  kitchen.  Our  mother  answered,  '  If  we  don't 


46  Dr.  Dale 

provide  places  where  they  can  have  respectable 
visitors  at  proper  hours,  they  will  find  for  themselves 
disreputable  places  and  improper  company  at  unlaw- 
ful hours,  being  only  human  beings  like  ourselves !  ' 
It  is  easy  to  see  where  you  got  your  sound  common- 
sense  and  independent  thought." 

"  I  have  n't  a  monopoly  of  them,"  returned  the 
brother,  stroking  the  pretty  head  nestling  in  his 
breast.  "  Now  that  my  sermonising  is  over,  — for  the 
present,  —  let  me  do  the  errand  that  brought  me 
across  the  hall." 

"  I  hoped  you  came  because  you  could  n't  live  an- 
other minute  without  seeing  me !  " 

"  It  goes  without  saying  that  that  affection  is 
chronic.  But  my  special  object  was  to  ask  what  I 
can  do  for  you  this  forenoon  to  make  you  more  com- 
fortable. Don't  you  want  me  to  move  furniture  — 
and  things?  Or  to  unstrap  trunks,  or  lift  boxes?" 
His  survey  of  the  premises  was  a  comical  mixture  of 
complacency  and  deprecation.  "  A  man  is  such  a 
helpless  duffer  in  these  affairs  !  Honestly,  do  things 
look  to  you  tolerable,  on  the  whole,  —  anything  like 
ship-shape,  you  know?" 

"Seaworthy,  taut,  and  trim?"  mocked  the  girl. 
"  I  shall  like  the  tout  ensemble  better  when  you  sit 
down  in  that  chair  and  your  little  sister  sits  upon 
her  big  brother's  knee.  Now ! "  settling  herself 
with  an  audible  sigh  of  satisfaction,  "  that  is  more 
ship-shape !  Presently,  after  you  have  listened  to 
my  merry  prattle  as  long  as  you  can  bear  it,  and  have 
betaken  yourself  to  your  study,  or  to  pastoral  visita- 
tions, or  to  The  Bachelors'  Club  —  what  a  deliciously 
dissipated  sound  that  has !  —  I  shall  unpack  the  two 
big  boxes  over  there,  hang  up  photographs  and 
etchings,  spread  a  bit  of  oriental  embroidery  on  that 
marble-topped  table  —  a  marble  slab  looks  so  blank 
without  an  inscription  !  —  dispose  rny  books  and  a  vase 


Myrtle  Bell  47 

or  two  wherever  they  will  look  their  best,  pull  the 
six  stuffed  chairs  away  from  the  wall  to  which  they 
are  sticking  closer  than  half-a-dozen  brothers,  throw 
a  few  cushions  of  many  colours  into  the  sharp  corners 
of  that  enchanting  old  mahogany  sofa,  and  "  —  check- 
ing the  breathless  flow  of  words  —  "  would  Mrs. 
Bowersox  object,  do  you  suppose?" 

"  Object !  The  room  is  yours  as  long  as  you  will 
glorify  it  by  your  abiding.  That  blessed  woman 
objects  to  nothing  that  will  add  even  a  unit  to  the 
sum  of  human  happiness.  Mrs.  Sarepta  Bowersox  is, 
to  quote  Chadband,  '  to  me  a  gem.  She  is  to  me 
a  jewel !  ' 

"  A  Koh-i-noor !  "  suggested  Myrtle,  roguishly. 

"  If  you  will.  A  mountain  of  light  in  several 
senses.  The  gossips  say  she  manages  her  husband. 
He  would  not  be  an  apology  for  an  entity  but  for 
her.  He  drank  hard  before  his  marriage.  She 
makes  him  so  comfortable  that  he  does  not  feel  the 
need  of  liquor.  There  is  no  harm  in  him,  and  very 
little  of  anything  else.  An  old  neighbour  told  me 
that  '  Sarepty  married  Jo'chim  out  o'  pity.  He  was 
sech  a  meachin'  cre'tur !  that  miserable  that  not  even 
a  dog  would  foller  him.'  I  can  believe  it.  She  can't 
see  any  creature  in  distress  without  trying  to  help 
it  —  " 

"  Poor,  dear  thing ! "  interpolated  Myrtle ;  and  both 
laughed  in  sheer  light-heartedness. 

It  was  good  to  be  together  again,  and  rattling  on 
"  in  the  old,  sweet  way  !  " 

"  That  just  covers  the  ground  for  her,"  said  Bell. 
"  To  be  '  poor  '  is  to  be  '  dear '  to  her  big,  deep,  warm 
heart.  Have  you  had  much  talk  with  her  yet?" 

"A  full  hour  — which  was  also  a  good  hour  — 
after  breakfast.  She  came  in  here,  after  the  manner 
of  another  poor  dear  "  —  pinching  her  brother's  ear 
—  "  to  make  sure  I  was  comfortable.  She  told  me 


48  Dr.  Dale 

several  dozen  things  in  sixty  minutes,  none  of  them 
unkind ;  among  others,  that  she  '  had  never  realised 
Jeff,  and  never  expected  to.'  " 

John  shouted  with  laughter.  Myrtle  eyed  him 
quizzically,  her  head  upon  one  side,  like  a  meditative 
mocking  bird. 

"  He  is  a  mystery !  I  can  compare  him  to  nothing 
but  witch-hazel,  the  starry  tufts  that  bloom  out  upon 
bare  branches  in  November  when  all  the  leaves  are 
dead  and  gone,  and  wintry  old  age  seems  to  have  set 
in.  If  I  had  had  the  naming  of  him,  he  would  be 
'  Hazel.'  Such  a  winsome  baby  as  he  is !  I  am 
looking  forward  to  great  times  with  Jeff.  His  mother 
told  me,  too,  that  he  was  'born  to  accidents  as  the 
sparks  fly  upward.' " 

"  Dale  says  he  marks  that  day  with  a  white  stone 
in  which  he  is  not  called  upon  to  stanch,  to  stick,  or 
to  splinter,"  remarked  the  diverted  listener. 

"  That  reminds  me  to  ask  when  your  paragon  is 
likely  to  materialise  for  my  benefit.  If  he  could 
guess  how  wildly  curious  I  am  to  see  him,  common 
humanity  would  drag  him  to  the  light.  I  have  been 
here  fourteen  —  fifteen  —  hours,  and  never  a  glimpse 
of  His  Serene  Highness  have  I  had." 

"  Poor  dear  !  "  returned  John.  "  I  may  say  it 
seriously  of  him.  He  was  called  into  the  country 
yesterday  afternoon  to  see  a  child  who  had  convul- 
sions. At  eight  o'clock  last  evening  a  messenger 
came  in  hot  haste  to  know  where  he  could  be  found. 
A  man  was  dying —  Come  in!" 

A  knock  at  the  door  was  the  precursor  of  the  — 
to  Myrtle  —  amazing  apparition  of  a  smart  coloured 
footman.  He  presented  a  large  flat  box  to  the 
young  lady  with  a  flourishing  bow. 

"  Miss  Folger's  compliments  to  Miss  Bell,  and 
she  hopes  Miss  Bell  are  feeling  quite  rested  after  her 
journey." 


Myrtle  Bell  49 

Before  Miss  Bell,  who  had  risen  from  her  brother's 
knee,  could  speak,  John  answered  for  her. 

"  Good-morning,  Arthur !  Please  say  to  Miss 
Folger  that  Miss  Bell  and  I  thank  her  for  the 
flowers,  and  that  Miss  Bell  is  well,  and  will  do 
herself  the  pleasure  of  calling  very  soon." 

"  Jack !  "  ejaculated  his  sister,  gazing  after  the 
august  figure  as  the  closing  door  took  it  from  her 
sight.  "  This  in  Pitvale  !  I  am  transfixed  !  " 

"  Let  me  break  the  spell  by  opening  the  box !  " 
undoing  the  string  and  removing  the  wrappings. 

He  handed  her  the  card  laid  upon  the  inner  layer 
of  tissue  paper,  then  drew  back  to  let  her  reveal  the 
treasures  for  herself. 

"'Miss  Folger,'"  read  Myrtle.  '  With  a  cordial 
welcome  to  Pitvale'  Oh-h-h  !  Smell  the  roses  !  " 

With  the  removal  of  the  coverings  a  slow  wave  of 
perfume  diffused  itself  through  the  room.  Layers 
of  half-blown  roses  of  the  choicest  varieties,  long- 
stemmed,  glossy-leaved,  and  dewy,  filled  the  box. 
In  silence  and  with  light  loving  touches,  the  girl 
lifted  and  laid  upon  the  centre-table,  first,  Jacque- 
minots, then,  American  Beauties,  next,  La  France, 
Katherine  Mermets,  finally,  a  glorious  mass  of  Gloire 
de  Dijons. 

She  sank  again  to  John's  knee,  clasped  her  hands 
like  one  faint  with  ecstasy,  and  devoured  them  with 
her  eyes. 

"Jack  !  "  in  a  half-whisper.  "  It  reminds  me  of  an 
altar,  all  alight  with  fire  from  heaven !  Who  is 
she?" 

John's  face  was  gravely  tender;  his  eyes  shone 
softly  as  when  they  had  rested  upon  the  little  sister 
in  the  earlier  months  of  their  orphanhood. 

"  Do  you  recollect  writing  to  ask  me  about  an 
account  you  had  seen  in  an  American  paper  of  the 
damage  done  in  Pitvale  by  water  and  by  fire?" 

4 


50  Dr.  Dale 

"  Can  I  ever  forget  it?  And  what  you  did  on  that 
dreadful  day?  And  how  you  left  me  to  find  it  out 
from  the  papers  and  other  people's  letters?" 

"  Why  should  I  distress  you  when  the  danger  was 
over?  Miss  Folger  was  seriously  injured  at  that  time. 
She  was  caught  in  the  floating  debris.  One  foot  was 
amputated  "  —  compressing  his  lips  and  tightening 
his  fist  at  the  recollection.  "  There  was  some  hurt 
to  the  other  leg — to  the  muscles  and  nerves.  She 
has  not  walked  a  step  since." 

"  Deformed  !  and  a  woman  !     How  terrible !  " 

"  You  will  take  that  word  back  when  you  see  her. 
She  is  the  happiest  person  I  know,  and  one  of  the 
most  useful.  You  heard  me  promise  that  you  would 
call  soon.  I  shall  be  disappointed  if  you  and  she 
are  not  friends.  We  —  Dale  and  I — owe  her  more 
than  I  can  tell  you.  Her  brother  built  the  club- 
house, and  she  furnished  it.  The  instruments  of  the 
band  were  her  gift.  The  first  concert  was  in  honour 
of  her  birthday,  and  in  her  grounds.  It  was  the 
prettiest  affair !  Dale  and  Ralph  Folger  managed 
everything.  The  members  of  the  Club  were  there 
in  their  best  clothes,  every  taint  of  oil  scoured  and 
soaked  out  of  them.  Hundreds  of  other  operatives 
came  with  their  wives  and  children.  It  was  like  an 
Old  World  fete.  Set  Mrs.  Bowersox  going  upon  that 
tack  some  day.  She  '11  be  crying  before  she  gets 
through.  She  was  doing  that  most  of  the  time 
during  what  she  calls  '  the  musical  picnic.' " 

"  Why  can't  we  go  to  see  Miss  Folger  this  very 
afternoon?"  asked  Myrtle,  impulsively.  "Will  she 
think  that  I  am  presuming  upon  her  kindness?" 

"Presuming!  my  dear  girl ! — " 

An  imperious  rattle  of  the  door-knob  broke  off  the 
sentence. 

"  That  is  your  witch-hazel  !  "  said  Bell,  laughing. 
And  without  changing  his  position  or  his  sister's,  he 


Myrtle  Bell  51 

called,  "  Try,  try  again,  my  man  !  Don't  give  up 
the  ship  !  " 

A  firmer  grasp  turned  the  knob,  then  the  owner 
of  the  helping  hand  stepped  back  as  Jeff  launched 
himself  into  the  room,  arms  wide  dispread,  every 
hair  of  his  many  curls  flying  loosely  abroad  in  the 
electric  excitement  which  shrilled  his  voice  and 
mixed  up  proper  names  upon  his  tongue, — 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Bale !  Dr.  Dell  has  the  beautifullest  dawg 
you  ever  saw  !  And  he  won't  bite,  either ! " 


CHAPTER  VI 

"  AFTER  ALL  THESE  BLACK  YEARS " 

"  Oh,  let  the  solid  ground 

Not  fail  beneath  my  feet 
Before  my  life  has  found 

What  some  have  found  so  sweet ! 
Then,  let  come  what  may  ! 

What  matter  if  I  go  mad  ? 
I  shall  have  had  my  day." 

DR.  DALE  had  had  a  trying  night 
The  preceding  evening  he  set  his  face 
homeward  upon  leaving  his   office,  worn 
out  by  a   heavy  day's   work   which   had 
stretched  from  a  heart-failure  case  at  six 
A.M.  to    a    professional   call    upon    Miss   Folger   at 
five-thirty  in  the  afternoon. 

Upon  the  porch  of  the  Bowersox  house  he  was 
met  by  a  peremptory  summons  which  dragged  him 
three  miles  into  the  country  to  visit  a  dying  child. 
From  her  death-bed  he  was  hurried  back  to  Pitvale 
to  pass  the  rest  of  the  night  in  another  death- , 
chamber,  under  circumstances  yet  more  harrowing 
to  the  sensibilities. 

It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  he 
got  home  after  the  sleepless  toil  of  twenty-seven 
hours.  He  was  used  to  these  happenings.  Another 
man  would  have  felt  like  a  limp  rag.  The  effect  of 
the  continuous  strain  upon  him  was  to  give  him  a 
feeling  of  utter  desolation,  weariness,  and  hopelessness. 
He  could  see  no  future,  he  could  recall  no  past,  that 
was  not  spent  in  a  joyless  routine  of  overwork,  in 
tragically  unsympathetic  environment  unrelieved  by 
any  recreative  or  home  joys. 


"After  all  these  Black  Years"  53 

Passionately  domestic  in  temperament,  he  had  no 
home ;  the  deep,  loving  heart  beneath  the  impassive 
exterior  found  no  outlet  save  in  his  friendship  for 
John  Bell.  And  to  a  jaded,  overwrought  man  the 
friendly  regard  of  one  of  his  own  sex  leaves  some- 
thing to  be  desired. 

These  reflections  strayed  languidly  and  depressingly 
through  the  wearied  physician's  mind  as  he  bathed, 
made  his  toilet,  and  ate  a  perfunctory  breakfast, 
the  hostess,  conversant  with  his  moods,  kindly  re- 
fraining from  talking  while  she  waited  upon  him. 
His  coffee  was  fresh,  hot,  clear,  and  black,  the  toast 
he  preferred  to  muffin  or  roll,  delicately  crisped,  the 
rasher  a  translucent  curl  of  savouriness.  To  tempt 
the  appetite  and  so  build  up  the  inner  and  outer 
man,  was  the  Bowersox  method  of  expressing  sym- 
pathy. 

Aware  of  this,  Dale  said,  "  You  are  very  good  to 
me,  and  I  thank  you  !  "  in  leaving  the  dining-room. 

He  would  go  to  his  chamber  for  a  few  hours  of 
sorely  needed  sleep  before  setting  the  treadmill  going 
for  another  day.  He  knew  that  when  he  awoke  the 
clouds  raised  by  weariness  of  body  would  have  rolled 
from  his  brain,  and  he  would  return  to  his  life-work 
with  a  new  heart.  He  had  marvellous  recuperative 
powers. 

Just  now  that  heart,  as  he  tramped  through  the 
dim,  chill  hall-way  leading  from  the  dining-room  in 
the  rear  extension  of  the  rambling  old  farmstead  to 
the  main  staircase,  was  as  heavy  as  lead.  Engrossed 
in  his  gloomy  musings,  he  almost  trod  upon  a  tiny 
busy  figure  working  with  both  hands  at  the  knob  of 
the  front  parlour  door. 

Dale  heard  John  Bell's  encouraging  call  to  Jeff's 
efforts,  and  turned  back  from  the  stair-foot.  Loosen- 
ing the  baby's  tight  grip,  he  gave  the  knob  a  twist, 
pushed  the  door  open,  and  would  have  passed  on 


54  Dr.  Dale 

when  his  eye  was  caught  by  a  wave  of  red  light.  He 
halted,  breathless  and  amazed,  staring  out  of  the 
dusk  into  the  room  before  him. 

The  first  glimpse  showed  him  nothing  but  a  riot- 
ing, pulsing  carnival  of  colour  and  radiance.  Little 
by  little,  the  scene  took  definite  form. 

The  long-disused  parlour  was  flooded  by  morning 
sunlight  reflected  in  a  ruddy  glow  from  the  red 
paper  of  the  walls,  sinking  into  and  bringing  out 
richly  the  shaded  crimsons  of  the  carpet.  A  roaring 
fire  of  logs  was  in  the  chimney-place,  blending  with 
the  stream  of  sunlit  warmth  that  surged  out  through 
the  open  door. 

In  the  centre  of  the  apartment,  giving  the  key-note 
of  the  whole  wonderful  colour-scheme,  was  the  mass 
of  roses  upon  the  table. 

Beside  them  stood  a  girl. 

A  broad  band  of  sunlight  revelled  in  the  brown 
hair  piled  loosely  upon  her  head,  changing  it  into  a 
saint's  aureole,  and  enhanced  the  vivid  colour  of  her 
cardinal-red  morning  gown. 

So  perhaps  on  Dante,  shivering  between  the  high 
gray  walls  of  the  narrow  Florentine  street  in  the  chill 
of  the  winter  morning,  flashed  the  vision  of  Beatrice 
on  her  way  to  early  Mass,  her  "  dress  of  a  most  noble 
colour,  a  subdued  and  becoming  crimson,"  lighting  up 
the  dusky  little  thoroughfare  and  diffusing  immortal 
life  and  warmth  into  the  boy-lover's  being. 

The  girl  faced  the  door,  one  hand  sunk  lightly  in 
the  glory  of  the  roses. 

The  tableau  lasted  for  the  quarter  of  a  second,  but 
long  enough  to  stamp  itself  for  all  time  upon  the 
heart  and  memory  of  the  toil-beaten  man  hesitating 
in  the  cold  passage-way.  Around  him  was  frosty 
gloom.  Behind  him  was  the  recollection  of  dying 
groans  and  the  hoarse  screams  of  delirium.  Before 
him  were  a  passion  of  sunshine  and  leaping  firelight, 


"After  all  these  Black  Years"  55 

the  perfume  of  roses,  the  sweetest  face  his  eyes  had 
ever  beheld —  warmth,  colour,  beauty  —  Home! 

The  scurry  and  patter  of  feet  upon  the  oilcloth 
covering  the  hall  floor  dispelled  the  glamour  of  the 
vision. 

Something  brushed  by  Dale  and  bounded  into  the 
room. 

It  was  a  big  setter  dog.  His  tawny  coat  shone 
like  burnished  copper  in  the  sunlight,  ears  and  tail 
were  erect.  Pausing  for  an  instant  to  take  in  the 
"  situation,"  the  canine  mind  was  made  up  and  acted. 
He  writhed  ecstatically  across  the  floor,  twisting  his 
body  into  an  animated  interrogation-point,  out  of 
pure  joy  taking  a  hundred  superfluous  pattering 
steps  in  his  progress,  as  is  the  wont  of  very  happy 
dogs.  He  made  straight  for  Myrtle  Bell,  his  silky 
ears  standing  out  at  the  side  of  his  head  like  quiver- 
ing fans,  the  white  ruffled  shirt-front  on  his  chest 
prominent  as  that  of  Beau  Brummell. 

"  Oh  !  beautiful !  "  cried  the  girl,  dropping  to  her 
knees  and  clasping  both  arms  about  the  furry  neck, 
while  the  dog  made  frantically  vain  attempts  to  lick 
her  face.  "Beautiful!  beautiful!  Whose  is  he? 
Yours,  Jeff?  " 

Thomas  Jefferson  shook  his  head  vehemently, 
waving  aside  the  honour  with  one  arm,  and  crooking 
his  right  thumb  backward  in  the  direction  of  the 
hall. 

"  Dr.  Dale's  —  he  is  !  I  telled  you  that  before,"  in 
mild  reproof. 

Myrtle  arose  to  her  feet.    John  called  heartily,  — 

"  Is  that  you,  old  man?  What  are  you  standing 
out  there  for?  Come  into  the  sunshine !  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Dale,  speaking  and  moving  as 
one  who  fears  to  awake  from  a  beautiful  dream.  "  I 
—  I  beg  pardon!  Yes!  I  will  come  into  the  sun- 
shine !  " 


56  Dr.  Dale 

He  stepped  across  the  threshold. 

Before  Bell  could  speak  her  name  Myrtle  had 
advanced,  her  hand  outstretched,  her  face  alight  with 
cordial  friendliness. 

"  You  and  I  must  not  meet  as  strangers,  Dr.  Dale ! 
John  has  told  me  so  much  about  you  I  feel  that  we 
are  already  friends." 

The  warm,  firm  clasp  of  her  fingers  thrilled  through 
every  nerve  and  fibre  of  his  frame.  Up  to  this 
moment  he  had  not  known  how  utterly  weary  and 
worn  he  was.  The  frank  hand-grasp  revealed  to  him 
his  fatigue  of  body  and  soul,  his  loneliness,  the  pale 
monotone  of  his  life,  as  nothing  else  in  years  had 
made  him  feel  it  all.  He  had  an  insane  impulse  to 
lay  his  face  upon  the  firm  little  hand  and  tell  the 
stranger  his  pain,  his  worries,  his  need. 

In  the  next  breath  the  strong  man  pulled  himself 
together  with  an  inward  sneer  at  the  momentary 
aberration  of  intellect,  the  wavering  of  will,  and 
replied  in  commonplace,  somewhat  formal  fashion  to 
Miss  Bell's  greeting. 

"  You  look  half  frozen,  Dale,"  said  John,  kindly, 
"  and  tired  to  death.  Take  that  big  chair  by  the 
fire,  and  thaw  yourself  out." 

Dale  walked  over  to  the  fireplace.  Myrtle  half 
unconsciously  noticed  the  freedom  from  embarrass- 
ment in  look  and  action,  as  she  had  the  peculiar 
sweetness  and  richness  of  his  voice,  and,  as  a  moment 
later,  she  made  note  of  the  instinctive  courtesy  with 
which  he  waited  for  her  to  sit  down  before  he  sank 
weariedly  into  the  chair  John  had  pointed  out  to  him. 

Before  coming  to  Pitvale  she  had  made  a  mental 
picture  of  her  brother's  friend.  He  was,  she  had 
imagined,  a  simple-minded  country  practitioner, 
somewhat  shy  in  the  presence  of  women,  and  a  trifle 
unpolished,  but  honest  of  heart  and  altogether  worthy 
of  the  affection  Jack  bestowed  upon  him. 


"After  all  these  Black  Years"  57 

It  was  a  shock  to  have  to  tear  down  this  portrait 
from  the  wall  of  her  mental  gallery,  and  to  substitute 
the  grave,  classic  visage,  prematurely  gray  hair,  and 
quietly  self-assured  manner  of  the  man  before  her. 

Something  of  this  perplexity  crept  into  her  expres- 
sion ;  and  Dale,  seeing  without  interpreting  it,  turned 
the  talk  from  himself. 

"  My  dog  owes  you  an  apology,"  he  said,  "  for 
bursting  in  upon  you  so  unconventionally.  You  '11 
overlook  it,  won't  you?  When  I've  had  him  longer 
I  '11  teach  him  to  wait  until  he  is  invited  before  enter- 
ing a  room.  At  present,  he  seems  to  lack  repose  of 
manner." 

"  He  owes  me  no  apology  at  all,"  Myrtle  made 
haste  to  protest.  "  He  's  the  dearest,  friendliest  dog 
I  ever  saw.  Look !  He  has  aesthetic  tastes,  too." 

The  setter  was  standing  in  a  patch  of  sunshine  by 
the  table,  his  head  raised,  sniffing  placidly  at  a  huge 
red  rose  that  overhung  the  edge.  Satisfied  as  to  the 
quality  and  quantity  of  its  perfume,  he  marched  with 
dignity  to  the  rug  and  curled  himself  upon  it  with  a 
complacent  sigh,  resting  his  nose  between  his  paws 
and  blinking  contentedly  at  the  flaming  logs. 

"  What  lovely  eyes  he  has ! "  went  on  Myrtle. 
:'  Their  deep  brown  harmonises  perfectly  with  his 
golden-red  coat.  His  hair  is  true  auburn." 

"  It  reminds  me  a  little  of  Miss  Kate  Meagley's 
new  dress,"  suggested  Dale,  turning  to  John,  "  the 
one  that  got  so  badly  torn  last  week." 

The  namesake  of  the  Father  of  Democracy,  at 
mention  of  the  mishap,  gazed  abstractedly  at  the  ceil- 
ing as  one  who  having  ears  heareth  not,  then  recalled 
a  pressing  engagement  elsewhere  and  departed  after 
the  manner  of  a  very  small,  very  white  snow-squall. 

"  Personalities  never  please  Thomas  Jefferson," 
laughed  Dale,  crossing  the  room  to  close  the  door 
the  snow-squall  had  left  open.  "  There  is  no  surer 


58  Dr.  Dale 

way  of  sending  him  about  his  business  than  by  allud- 
ing to  his  misdeeds." 

"Where  did  the  dog  come  from?"  queried  Bell. 
"  You  speak  very  grandly  of  '  my  dog '  and  '  when 
I  've  had  him  longer.'  I  suppose  you  want  to  im- 
press my  sister  with  the  idea  that  the  possession  of  a 
thoroughbred  setter  is  no  novelty  to  you.  But  you 
must  make  some  allowances  for  my  curiosity.  Is  he 
another  testimonial  from  a  G.  P.  ?  " 

"  What  is  a  G.  P.  ? "  asked  Myrtle.  "  Is  that 
another  oil-region  technical  term?" 
Dale  answered  with  affected  gravity,  — 
"  It  is  '  short '  for  Grateful  Patient.  You  see,  when 
an  invalid  gets  well,  the  delusion  sometimes  lingers 
in  his  mind  that  he  owes  his  recovery  to  the  doctor 
who  attended  him,  and  he  pays  off  the  debt  of  grati- 
tude with  a  plaster  cast  of  '  Checkers  at  the  Old 
Farm,'  or,  if  the  late  patient  be  a  woman,  by  a  pair  of 
misfit  slippers  worked  in  gray  moss-roses  and  scarlet 
violets.  Such  offerings  embody  all  the  gratitude  the 
G.  P.  is  capable  of  feeling.  It  does  n't  extend  to  the 
sordid  lengths  of  paying  doctor's  bills." 

"And  is  this  beautiful  dog  a  G.  P.  offering?  " 
"Not  of  that  kind  exactly,"  replied  the  doctor, 
now  in  real  earnest.  "A  poor  chap  died  last  night. 
I  had  attended  him  in  his  illness.  He  had  no  money, 
—  not  a  penny  to  bury  him  with.  Just  before  he 
became  unconscious  he  thanked  me  for  the  little  I 
had  been  able  to  do  for  him,  and  asked  me  to  take 
his  dog  in  payment,  and,  incidentally,  to  give  the 
poor  brute  a  good  home." 

'  Who  was  he?  "  inquired  John,  with  interest. 
'  Svensen." 

'  He  has  gone,  then?     Poor  fellow  !  " 
'  Yes,  I  was  there  all  night.     He  died  at  sunrise." 
'  That  man,"  said  John  to  his  sister,  "  might  serve 
as  a  fair  example  of  the  need  in  a  certain  class  of 


"jifter  all  these  Black  Years"  59 

such  work  as  is  done  by  The  Bachelors'  Club.  He 
was  a  Swede,  a  day-labourer,  a  good  worker,  but  fond 
of  liquor.  Some  of  our  fellows  tried  hard  to  get  him 
into  the  Club,  but  he  '  had  heard  we  had  rules  there, 
and  he  liked  his  liberty.'  In  other  words  he  pre- 
ferred to  guzzle  bad  whiskey  in  dirty  clothes  at  The 
Oilman's  Rest  to  cleanliness  and  pure  beer  at  the 
Club-House.  Mr.  Welsh  looked  upon  him  as  a 
highly  promising  convert,  a  year  ago,  but  when 
threats  of  eternal  punishment  ceased  to  frighten  him, 
he  took  to  drink  again." 

"  Jack !  that  is  the  first  bitter  thing  I  have  heard 
you  say,"  remonstrated  Myrtle. 

"  God  forgive  me  for  it,  dear !  Welsh  is  a  good 
man,  but  he  will  not  understand  that  '  con-vert '  means 
to  turn  about,  and  that  we  must  follow  up  the  con- 
vert, hold  him  by  the  shoulders,  and  keep  him  in  the 
new  path.  It  is  a  work  of  time  and  endless  patience, 
'  here  a  little  and  there  a  little,  line  upon  line  and 
precept  upon  precept.'  Svensen  got  into  a  fight  at 
The  Oilman's  Rest,  a  local  saloon,  about  a  week  ago. 
He  was  drunk  at  the  time.  He  got  a  stab  in  the 
lungs  from  an  Italian's  knife.  Pneumonia  set  in  a 
day  or  so  later.  This  is  the  end  !  " 

The  sincere  mournfulness  in  the  young  preacher's 
voice  and  manner  kept  the  others  mute  for  a  minute. 

Then  Dale  remarked  quietly :  "  Welsh  was  with 
him  to  the  last.  I  wish  I  could  bring  myself  to  like 
that  little  man !  " 

"  He  is  a  good  man,"  reiterated  Bell,  in  a  tone  of 
profound  conviction,  "  a  man  who  would  go  to  the 
stake  for  his  faith." 

"  Or  his  prejudices  !  "  subjoined  the  doctor.  "  He 
nursed  Svensen  as  tenderly  as  a  woman  could.  It 
was  in  language  alone  that  he  was  harsh.  I  ven- 
tured to  suggest  to  him  last  night  that  words  of  hope 
and  comfort  might  ease  a  parting  soul  more  than  his 


60  Dr.  Dale 

promises  of  the  fate  that  awaits  evil-doers.  He  wheeled 
upon  me  with  a  text  beginning, '  Except  j£  repent '  —  " 

" '  Ye  shall  all  likewise  perish/  "  supplied  John,  in 
reverent  sadness. 

"  That  is  it.  I  had  n't  the  heart  to  be  angry  with 
him.  He  was  so  terribly  in  earnest.  All  this  must 
be  stupid  talk  to  you,  Miss  Bell?" 

"  Anything  but  that !  "  asserted  the  girl,  warmly. 
"  I  am  interested  in  every  detail  of  the  work  you  and 
my  brother  are  carrying  on  so  nobly." 

A  slight  flush  crossed  Dale's  face  at  the  frank 
avowal. 

"  It  is  he,  not  I,  who  does  the  '  noble '  part  of  the 
work,"  he  said  quickly.  "  It  falls  to  my  share  to 
patch  up  such  parts  of  the  machinery  as  get  out  of 
repair." 

"Nonsense!"  interjected  Bell.  "Why,  Myrtle, 
these  poor  people  fairly  worship  him.  He  slaves  for 
them,  night  and  day.  Only  last  week  —  " 

"Are  those  flowers  Pitvale  products,  or  did  they, 
too,  come  from  New  York  to  brighten  up  the  oil- 
lands?  "  asked  Dale,  abruptly,  shutting  off  his  friend's 
encomiums. 

"  They  were  sent  to  me  by  Miss  Folger,"  replied 
Myrtle.  "  John  says  she  is  always  doing  things  to 
make  life  pleasant  for  others." 

"  He  is  right.  She  does  it  by  stealth  generally. 
For  example,  when  I  called  there  yesterday  — " 

John  took  him  up. 

"  You  were  there  yesterday !  Was  anything  the 
matter?" 

"  Nothing  serious.  Miss  Meagley  sent  for  me  to 
prescribe  for  Miss  Folger's  headache  which  went  off 
before  I  got  there." 

"  Folger  !  "  repeated  Myrtle,  thoughtfully.  "  I  met 
a  man  in  Venice  last  year  who  spelled  his  name  in 
the  same  way.  We  pronounced  it  Foalger." 


"After  all  these  Black  Years'"  61 

"  It  may  have  been  her  brother !  "  exclaimed  John. 
"  He  was  in  Italy  last  winter.  What  manner  of  man 
was  he?  " 

Myrtle  laughed. 

"  A  jolly,  good-natured,  whimsical  fellow,  who 
spent  money  in  ways  that  made  sleepy  Italians  open 
their  eyes.  He  was  infatuated  by  gondolas  and  gon- 
doliers, and  bought  one.  He  would  row  it  himself, 
and  invited  every  American  he  met  to  go  out  with 
him.  He  learned  to  handle  the  long  oar  as  well 
as  a  native-born  gondolier,  and  to  shout  '  Stall ! ' 
and  '  Premi ! '  and  '  Gia-J'  at  the  right  turnings. 
At  the  end  of  a  week  he  gave  the  gondola  to  a 
beggar  he  met  in  the  Piazza  San  Marco.  I  asked 
him  why  he  selected  that  particular  beggar,  and  he 
said,  '  Because  he  's  the  only  man  in  four  continents 
whose  hair  is  the  precise  colour  of  mine.  The  coin- 
cidence deserves  notice.' " 

A  burst  of  laughter  from  her  auditors  greeted  the 
anecdote. 

"  That  is  Ralph  Folger,  among  a  million !  "  cried 
John.  "  His  hair  was  —  ?  " 

"  Very,  very  red !  And  his  name  was  Ralph ! 
What  a  little  world  we  live  in !  " 

"  The  hair  settles  the  question,"  concluded  John. 
"  Ralph  is  very  proud  of  the  colour.  He  calls  it 
'  Schenectady  hair,'  because,  as  he  says,  '  it  is 
twenty  miles  from  Auburn.'  The  gondola  prank 
is  on  a  par  with  his  performance  at  the  Joseph 
Gurney  Hotel  in  Philadelphia.  It  is  one  of  the  very 
swellest  hotels  in  the  country.  Folger  went  there 
to  call  upon  a  friend.  He  told  a  bell-boy  to  take 
up  his  card.  The  boy  was  busy  and  impertinent. 
Ralph  hunted  up  the  proprietor  and  demanded  the 
boy's  discharge.  The  proprietor  refused,  and  Folger 
lost  his  temper. 

" '  What   price  do  you  want   for  this  joint,  any- 


62  Dr.  Dale 


way '  ?  he  said.  '  Name  a  sum  and  I  '11  buy  you 
out  !' 

"  The  proprietor  thought  he  was  dealing  with  a 
crazy  man  until  he  heard  his  name.  Then  he  was 
all  apologies.  But  Ralph's  blood  was  up.  To  make 
a  long  story  short,  he  leased  the  hotel  for  a  week. 
The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  discharge  the  offending 
bell-boy,  and  to  pay  the  other  boys  five  dollars 
apiece  to  chase  him  down  Chestnut  Street  with 
sticks.  Lastly,  he  paid  five  hundred  dollars  to  the 
boy's  parents  not  to  bring  suit,  setting  the  sum 
himself." 

"  Did  he  make  money  out  of  the  hotel?  " 

"  Make  money !  You  may  judge  for  yourself. 
All  meals  were  free,  and  the  bar  was  open  to  all 
comers.  The  only  requisite  for  guests  was  the  pres- 
entation of  an  engraved  visiting-card.  Folger  held 
that  nobody  who  is  not  more  or  less  respectable  has 
an  engraved  card.  This  barred  out  the  tough  ele- 
ment for  a  while." 

"  How  did  the  experiment  end?  " 

"  The  story  goes  that  within  three  days  there 
was  n't  a  guest  in  another  hotel  for  miles  around  ; 
neighbouring  saloons  put  up  their  shutters  out  of 
sheer  lack  of  custom,  and  ten  firms  were  working  over 
time  to  turn  out  engraved  visiting-cards.  There  was 
a  line  of  people  half  a  mile  long  standing  in  the 
street,  night  and  day,  awaiting  admission  to  the 
Joseph  Gurney  Hotel.  At  the  end  of  the  week 
Ralph  came  back  to  Pitvale,  nearly  one  hundred 
thousand  dollars  out  of  pocket.  But  he  said  he  had 
had  the  time  of  his  life.  He  gave  each  employee 
fifty  dollars  as  a  farewell  gift." 

"  Your  story  may  be  wanting  in  the  elements  of 
probability,"  said  Myrtle.  "  It  has  the  merit  of  com- 
pleteness. In  absurdity,  it  is  '  round,  and  perfect  as 
a  star.' " 


"After  alTthese  Black  Years"  63 

While  the  Bells  chatted,  Dale  leaned  back  with 
half-shut  eyes,  yet  regardful  of  the  picture  before 
him.  The  fire  was  thawing  his  chilled  blood,  even 
as  the  home-like  scene  was  drawing  the  frosts  of 
years  from  his  heart. 

" '  Into  the  sunshine  !  '  "  he  kept  repeating  mechani- 
cally to  himself  as  the  voices  and  laughter  of  happy 
brother  and  sister  chimed  like  joy-bells  in  his  ears, 
and  the  flames  sang  and  danced  up  the  chimney. 
"Have  I  come  into  the  sunshine  —  at  last?" 

The  dog,  too,  was  thawed  out,  and  began  to  think 
he  had  remained  long  enough  in  the  background. 
Getting  up,  he  walked  over  to  Myrtle,  and  laid  one 
white  paw  gravely  on  her  lap.  She  stooped  again 
to  pat  him. 

"  Good  old  —  What  did  you  say  his  name  is, 
Dr.  Dale?" 

"  I  did  n't  say !  I  refrained  studiously  from  say- 
ing. I  can't  pronounce  it.  Svensen  said  it  over 
several  times,  but  it  sounded  to  me  like  the  trade- 
mark on  a  box  of  safety  matches.  Won't  you  re- 
christen  him  ?  " 

"  I ! " 

"  Yes  —  and  —  I  wonder  if  you  will  do  me  a 
great  favour,  Miss  Bell?" 

"  Certainly !  if  I  can.     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  am  so  busy  and  so  seldom  at  home  that  I 
could  never  be  sure  the  dog  was  well  cared  for. 
Besides,  he  is  frigidly  distant  in  his  manner  to  me. 
It  is  evident  that  we  are  not  what  the  Italians  call 
simpatica,  —  he  and  I.  He  was  as  evidently  your 
devoted  '  slave  at  first  sight.  Won't  you,  please, 
let  me  transfer  him  to  your  kind  keeping?  It  will 
be  a  great  kindness,  believe  me,  both  to  me  and 
to  him !  " 

"A  capital  notion!"  cried  John,  before  Myrtle 
could  decide  whether  to  accept  or  decline  this 


64  Dr.  Dale 

slightly  unconventional  offer.  "  He  '11  be  lots  of 
company  for  you,  little  girl,  and  I  know  how  you 
love  dogs." 

"  The  sensible  animal  has  decided  for  you,  Miss 
Bell,"  urged  Dale.  "  Let  him  be  nominally  mine 
or  yours,  I  foresee  he  will  be  at  your  heels  all  the 
time,  and  forsake  me  for  you  on  all  occasions.  So 
save  yourself  the  pain  of  alienating  a  dog  from  his 
owner  by  becoming  yourself  his  lawful  possessor." 

"Thank  you  ever  and  ever  so  much,  Dr.  Dale!  " 
responded  the  girl,  after  an  instant's  reflection.  Her 
glance  was  cloudless,  her  accent  cordial.  She  ex- 
tended her  hand  to  seal  the  transfer,  looking  him 
frankly  in  the  eyes.  "  I  shall  always  recollect," 
she  continued,  pointing  to  the  flowers  while  one  hand 
rested  on  the  dog's  silky  head,  "  the  two  beautiful 
gifts  that  welcomed  my  arrival  in  Pitvale." 

"And  you  will  name  him  —  now?"  persisted 
Dale,  interrupting  her  thanks. 

"  Of  course,  if  I  can  think  of  a  name  good  enough 
for  him." 

" Please"  entreated  John,  " don't  call  him  Rover, 
or  Carlo,  or  Fido,  or  Duke,  or  Towser,  or  Sport,  or 
Bose !  " 

"  Or  Hector,  Csesar,  or  Brutus,"  supplemented 
Dale,  in  the  same  tone. 

"  Indeed  I  shall  not  do  anything  so  hackneyed. 
Ah !  "  clapping  her  hands,  "  the  name  has  come  to 
me  like  an  inspiration,  the  name  of  all  others  that 
just  fits  him,  and  the  only  one.  '  Beautiful ! '  look 
at  me  !  And  will  you  look  at  him?  Could  anything 
fit  him  better?" 

"  It  is  uncommon,  at  all  events,"  said  John, 
dubiously. 

"  It  is  a  stroke  of  genius  !  "  declared  Dale.  "  As 
she  says,  it  is  an  inspiration.  It  was  the  first  word 
she  said  to  him  when  he  rushed  into  the  room  and 


"After  all  these  Black  Tears'"   65 

claimed  her  as  his  prospective  owner.  But  don't 
call  his  name  too  often,  Miss  Bell.  You  've  made 
him  quite  egotistical  already,  as  it  is." 

A  rap  at  the  door  checked  the  nonsense  as  deli- 
cious to  one  of  the  participants  as  it  was  novel.  Mrs. 
Bowersox's  ample  person  followed  the  knock. 

"  Oh,  you  are  here,  Dr.  Dale !  I  Ve  been  up  to 
your  room  looking  for  you.  And  I  hated  to  do  it, 
too,  for  I  says  to  myself,  '  He  needs  sleep  more  than 
he  does  the  consolation  of  religion,  so  to  speak,  poor 
dear  gentleman ! '  But  there 's  a  man  over  at  Vil- 
lard's  well  that's  caught  his  arm  in  a  chain,  poor 
dear !  and  it 's  crushed  to  a  jelly,  poor  thing !  and 
they  Ve  sent  in  a  hurry  for  you  to  come  right  off. 
For,  says  the  hand  who  came  for  you,  '  we  won't  have 
that  butchering  Kruger,  if  we  have  to  wait  all  day.' " 

Dale  was  on  his  feet,  every  trace  of  lassitude  gone, 
his  senses  all  quick  with  life. 

"  Certainly,  Mrs.  Bowersox !  Send  word  that  I 
will  be  there  in  ten  minutes.  Will  you  tell  Case  to 
harness  my  horse  at  once?" 

Myrtle  looked  in  vain  for  any  shade  of  unwilling- 
ness or  ill-humour  in  the  physician's  tired  face  at  the 
call  which  compelled  him  to  forego  sleep  for  a  new 
"  case."  She  read  in  his  eyes  nothing  but  profes- 
sional zeal  and  pity  for  the  injured  man. 

As  Dale  ran  down  the  front  steps  to  jump  into  the 
carriage  waiting  at  the  bottom,  he  brushed  against 
the  Rev.  Cotton  Mather  Welsh,  who  was  coming 
slowly  up.  The  doctor  passed  him  with  a  silent  nod, 
curt  but  civil,  not  seeing  or  caring  that  the  other 
frowned  darkly  upon  him. 

Again  he  was  saying  to  his  warmed  heart :  "  I 
am  in  the  sunshine  !  After  all  these  black  years  ! 
And,"  with  the  dogged  will-power  of  a  resolute  soul, 
"  there  I  shall  stay,  Fate  willing,  while  life  lasts !  " 


CHAPTER   VII 

REV.   C.   MATHER   WELSH 

"  A  fellow  that  makes  no  figure  in  company  and  has  a  mind  as 
narrow  as  the  neck  of  a  vinegar  cruet." 

MRS.  BOWERSOX'S  " second  girl "  was 
cursed  by  nature  with  a  fatal  facility  for 
blundering,  and,  as  her  mistress  put  it, 
for  "  getting  under  foot  of  somebody 
from  the  rising  of  the  sun  to  the  going 
down  of  the  same." 

As  she  knocked  at  the  door  of  Miss  Bell's  parlour 
with  one  hand,  she  turned  the  knob  with  the  other, 
and  pushed  the  door  open  with  her  foot. 

John  was  unstrapping  a  great  trunk  in  the  middle 
of  the  room. 

"There's  one  to  see  you,  sir,"  drawled  a  voice 
behind  him. 

Glancing  under  his  elbow,  he  espied  a  figure  in  the 
hall.  A  stride  took  him  out  of  the  room.  As  he 
passed  through  the  door,  he  shut  it. 

"Ah!  Mr.  Welsh!  Good-morning!"  With  all 
his  good-will,  he  could  not  keep  the  surprised  accent 
out  of  his  greeting.  "  I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  ! 
Walk  into  my  study,  please !  " 

He  led  the  way  across  the  hall,  and  flung  the  door 
wide,  ushering  the  visitor  into  a  room  of  fair  size, 
fitted  up  with  desk,  bookcases,  lounge,  and  chairs. 

"  Please  take  a  seat,  and  excuse  me  for  a  minute  ! 
Make  yourself  at  home.  I  shall  be  back  directly." 

Left  to  himself,  Mr.  Welsh  gazed  hypercritically 
about  him.  His  eyes,  small  and  sharp  as  a  ferret's, 


Rev.  C.  Mather  Welsh       67 

had  already  taken  in  every  detail  of  the  appoint- 
ments and  actors  in  the  room  of  which  he  had  had 
a  fleeting  glimpse  when  Gretchen  blundered  into  it. 
The  home-missionary  whose  parish  is  the  slums 
soon  develops  detective  genius  if  he  has  any  apti- 
tude for  his  business,  unless  he  be  exceptionally 
stupid.  Cotton  Mather  Welsh  might  not  see  the 
field  as  John  Bell  and  Egbert  Dale  saw  it,  but  he 
was  the  reverse  of  dull,  and  he  was  born  with  a 
retriever's  scent  for  slaughtered  game.  Added  to 
this  was  the  readiness  of  the  provincial  bigot  to 
credit  the  worst  that  can  be  conceived  of  his  fellow- 
creatures.  Believing  that  the  natural  man  does  evil, 
and  that  alone,  and  continually,  he  was  a  pious  pessi- 
mist of  the  most  pronounced  type.  The  microscope 
was  never  out  of  his  hand,  and  the  lenses  had  a 
yellow  tinge. 

The  flush  of  flame  colour  thrown  athwart  the  sober 
drab  of  the  hall  oil-cloth  by  the  opening  door,  the 
whiff  of  rose-scent  that  flowed  outward  with  the 
colour,  the  interior  of  a  parlour  that  looked  sinfully 
luxurious,  were  no  more  lost  upon  him  than  they 
had  been  upon  Dale  an  hour  ago.  He  even  had  a 
view,  brief  but  clear,  of  the  cardinal-red  peignoir 
embroidered  with  white,  and  the  wearer,  lissome  and 
laughing,  standing  over  the  young  minister,  one  hand 
on  his  curly  head.  A  flash  of  associative  ideas  con- 
jured up  the  Woman  "  arrayed  in  purple  and  scarlet, 
and  decked  with  gold  and  precious  stones  and 
pearls,"  at  sight  of  whom  the  Seer  of  Patmos 
"  wondered  with  great  admiration." 

C.  Mather  Welsh  had  never  before  entered  the 
Bowersox  house.  The  exterior  was  respectable 
enough.  He  had  doubts  of  his  own,  therefore  well 
grounded,  as  to  the  propriety  of  professing  Chris- 
tians living  in  a  square  two-storied  brick  mansion, 
with  a  cupola  on  the  roof,  when  thousands  of  the 


68  Dr.  Dale 

Lord's  poor  had  but  one  garret-room  apiece.  But 
he  was  not  the  keeper  of  his  neighbour's  conscience 
in  every  instance,  and  he  knew  Mrs.  Bowersox  to 
be  one  whom,  as  Bunyan  said  of  Mercy  and  Chris- 
tiana, "  the  backs  and  the  bellies  of  the  poor  blessed." 
These  things  might  be  counted  to  her  as  righteous- 
ness. With  the  Almighty  all  things  were  possible. 

The  cream  of  Christian  charity  curdled  within 
him,  as  new  milk  in  a  thunder-shower  or  under 
the  dropping  of  noxious  dews,  at  the  conviction 
which  smote  him  that  he  had  penetrated  to  a  den 
of  gilded  infamy. 

He  had  striven  —  hard  and  prayerfully,  with  strong 
crying  and  tears,  for  there  was  something  wondrously 
winning  about  the  boy  —  to  believe,  against  reason 
and  conscience,  that  John  Bell  might  be  unsound  on 
the  temperance  question,  yet  be  one  of  those  to  be 
saved  so  as  by  fire,  when  the  wood  of  heterodoxy,  the 
hay  of  levity,  the  stubble  of  worldly  conformity, 
should  be  burned  away.  Now  he  groaned  in  spirit. 

The  room  into  which  he  had  been  hurriedly  thrust 
—  that  was  his  way  of  putting  it  —  was  fitted  up 
neatly  with  the  solid,  substantial  furniture  of  a  former 
generation.  Two  sides  were  lined  with  books ;  the 
immense  desk,  of  modern  make,  had  a  rolling-top. 
This  was  open  and  showed  a  multiplicity  of  pigeon- 
holes, bursting  with  papers,  a  double  row  of  drawers. 
Upon  the  top  was  an  easel,  upon  the  easel  a  framed 
picture  of  a  woman.  He  moved  nearer  to  inspect  it. 
Again  a  red  gown !  In  his  ignorance,  he  called  it 
"  scarlet "  also.  Above  the  velvet  and  the  lace  and 
the  flaunting  flower,  the  face  of  Delilah  !  No  second 
look  was  needed  to  convince  a  man  who  knew  the 
depravity  of  the  carnal  mind,  of  the  dawning  truth. 

His  lips  moved.  If  he  had  been  a  Roman  Catholic, 
he  would  have  crossed  himself.  From  the  force  of 
habit  the  whisper  was  from  Holy  Writ,  — 


Rev.   C.  Mather  Welsh       69 

"  Her  lips  drop  as  a  honey-comb,  and  her  mouth  is 
smoother  than  oil.  Her  feet  go  down  to  death  :  her 
steps  take  hold  on  death" 

He  did  not  offer  to  stir  at  the  click  of  the  bolt  in 
the  door.  His  face  was  as  grim  as  iron. 

"  You  are  looking  at  my  sister's  picture,"  said 
Bell's  heartsome  tones.  "  She  arrived  last  night  on  a 
visit  to  me.  I  hope  to  keep  her  for  a  long  time.  Sit 
down !  "  wheeling  an  arm-chair  to  the  front  of  the 
fire.  "  You  will  excuse  me  for  keeping  you  waiting," 
with  his  happy  laugh.  "  To  be  frank,  I  had  to 
unstrap  and  unlock  a  couple  of  trunks  for  her.  It's 
nice  to  be  able  to  wait  upon  her  again.  We  have 
been  separated  for  almost  four  years.  The  cold 
weather  holds  on  hard,  doesn't  it?  Lay  off  your 
overcoat,  or  you  won't  feel  it  when  you  go  out.  Let 
me  help  you  !  " 

Without  waiting  for  permission,  he  laid  hold  of  a 
cuff  with  one  hand,  the  collar  with  the  other,  and 
stripped  the  shabby  outer  garment  from  the  spare 
frame  as  he  would  peel  a  banana.  Feeling  how  light 
it  was  because  threadbare,  he  laid  it  respectfully  over 
a  chair-back. 

Ousted  abruptly  from  the  role  of  accusing  angel, 
Welsh  looked  his  discomfiture  so  unequivocally  that 
Bell  led  on  in  the  talk  upon  general  subjects  to  give 
him  time  to  regain  his  mental  equilibrium. 

"  I  do  not  recollect  another  winter  as  severe  since 
1  came  to  Western  Pennsylvania.  We  manage  to 
keep  comfortable  here.  The  walls  are  very  thick, 
having  been  built  when  labour  was  cheap  and  bricks 
abundant." 

Receiving  no  reply,  he  changed  his  tack. 

"  You  had  a  trying  experience  last  night,  Dr.  Dale 
tells  me.  I  suppose  it  is  with  you  as  it  is  with  me. 
We  never  get  used  to  seeing  illness  and  death." 

"  I  am  here  to  speak  of  last  night's   affair,"  said 


jo  Dr.  Dale 

Welsh  in  a  rasping  falsetto,  the  intonations  hard  and 
dry. 

He  stared  straight  forward,  past  his  companion's 
head,  through  the  window  at  the  inclement  blue  of 
the  wintry  sky. 

"  I  had  expected  —  naturally,  it  seems  to  me  —  that 
the  funeral  exercises  would  devolve  upon  me.  The 
comrades  —  I  cannot  call  them  his  'friends'  —  of 
the  deceased  have  taken  charge  of  the  matter. 
Miss  Folger  wrote  to  me,  in  answer  to  a  note  I  left  at 
her  door  at  sunrise  this  morning,  that  she  would 
defray  the  expenses  of  the  burial.  She  says,  and 
with  truth,  that  this  is  only  just,  seeing  the  man  was 
once  in  the  employ  of  the  Folger  Oil  Company.  He 
had  worked  nowhere  for  two  months.  He  had  degen- 
erated into  a  hopeless  loafer  and  sot.  I  found  these, 
his  companions  in  vice,  in  possession  upon  my  return 
to  the  low  boarding-house  in  which  he  died.  When 
I  gave  them  Miss  Folger's  message,  informing  them, 
moreover,  that,  according  to  her  custom  in  such 
cases,  she  would  send  one  of  her  carriages  to  convey 
the  pall-bearers  and  officiating  minister  to  the  grave, 
I  was  told  that  I  would  not  be  allowed  to  take  the 
service  unless  I  would  pledge  myself  not  to  say  a 
word  derogatory  to  the  deceased.  '  Nothing  ag'in 
him,'  were  the  precise  words  used." 

He  stopped  to  wet  his  lips  with  his  tongue.  His 
eyes  were  withdrawn,  it  seemed  painfully,  from  the 
cold  fierceness  of  the  sky  and  fastened  upon  a  spot 
on  the  papered  wall  back  of  John,  who  was  listening 
with  an  expression  of  sincere  sympathy  and  grave 
concern.  The  paper  had  a  blue  ground.  A  curly- 
cue  pattern  of  a  darker  shade  tied  itself  up  in  hope- 
less knots  three  times  in  each  breadth.  John  won- 
dered if  the  ferrety  eyes,  red  in  the  rims  and  fringed 
by  scanty  lashes,  that  blinked  violently  at  most  un- 
expected intervals,  were  trying  to  undo  the  snarls. 


Rev.  C.  Mather  Welsh       71 

He  had  nearly  assured  him  that  it  would  be  of  no  use, 
when  the  tense  falsetto  began  again :  — 

"  Of  course,  with  my  principles,  I  could  promise 
nothing  of  the  kind.  I  hold  —  being  an  ambassador 
in  bonds,  not  of  my  making,  but  my  Master's — that 
it  is  my  bounden  duty  to  improve  occasions  like  the 
present,  to  the  good  of  the  living.  If  the  lost  wretch 
who  passed  into  Eternity  last  night  could  speak  to 
me,  I  believe  it  would  be  in  some  such  words  as 
Dives  addressed  to  Abraham,  '  Testify  unto  them 
lest  they  also  come  into  this  place  of  torment' 

"  I  said  this  —  and  much  more  —  to  these  men  of 
Belial.  I  told  them  I  had  in  mind,  as  a  suitable  text 
for  the  funeral  sermon,  '  He  that  being  often  re- 
proved and  hardeneth  his  neck,  shall  suddenly  be 
destroyed  and  that  without  remedy'  I  said  :  '  While 
this  man  lived  I  laboured  and  prayed  with  and  for 
him.  I  sat  beside  him  for  two  days  and  a  night, 
wrestling  for  his  soul  and  ministering  to  his  bodily 
needs,  when  you  were  drowning  thought  in  liquid 
damnation.  My  work  for  him  is  done.  My  business 
is  now  with  those  who  are  left  in  the  land  of  the  liv- 
ing. Whether  men  will  heed  or  whether  they  will 
forbear,  I  must  deliver  my  message.  I  have  to  an- 
swer at  the  Last  Day  at  the  bar  of  Him  from  whom  I 
received  my  commission,  for  the  manner  in  which  my 
duty  is  done. 

"  This  sounds  like  empty  talk  to  you,  Mr.  Bell !  " 
shifting  his  gaze  swiftly  to  John's  compassionate 
face. 

"  Anything  but  that,  Mr.  Welsh !  "  the  sonorous 
voice  full,  round,  and  sweet  after  the  wiry  vibrations 
of  the  long  monologue.  "  I  respect  you  and  your 
motives  too  truly  to  feel  otherwise  than  grieved  by 
what  you  have  told  me.  If  there  is  anything  I  can 
do—" 

"  You  are   to  do  everything !  "     The  small   blue 


72  Dr.  Dale 

eyes  blinked  rapidly  and  long  at  the  stuffed  white 
owl  on  the  mantel,  a  present  to  "  the  Dominie  "  from 
an  admiring  parishioner.  "  The  ringleader  of  the 
party  who  waited  upon  me  broke  off  the  conference 
with  an  oath  —  a  blasphemous  oath,  sir !  to  the  face 
of  a  minister  of  the  Gospel !  —  and  declared  they 
would  not  fool  any  longer  with  a  '  brimstone  fireman. 
Dominie'  Bell  was  too  square  a  man  to  kick  a  fellow 
when  he  was  down.  You  would  n't  catch  him  spitting 
in  a  dead  man's  face  ! ' ' 

He  said  it  with  a  certain  gusto  in  rehearsing  the 
exact  phrases  that  was  alike  unaccountable  and 
revolting  to  the  hearer.  It  may  have  been  part  and 
parcel  of  the  haircloth  shirt  he  had  elected  to  wear. 
Or  was  there  salve  for  wounded  self-love  in  the 
reflection  that  here  was  persecution  for  righteous- 
ness' sake? 

"  Horrible  !  "  ejaculated  Bell,  in  strong  indignation. 
"  The  fellow  was  probably  drunk.  All  the  same  the 
insult  was  abominable.  He  shall  apologise  to  you  — " 

The  gesture  with  which  the  little  minister  checked 
him  was  almost  majestic. 

"  By  no  manner  of  means,  Mr.  Bell !  Do  you 
imagine  that  such  an  one  as  he  can  wound  me,  much 
less  the  Cause  I  represent?  But  to  our  business! 
The  spokesman  went  on  to  say  that  '  if  Dominie  Bell 
did  n't  give  Svensen  a  through  ticket,  all  right,  he'd 
hold  his  tongue  about  him,  seeing  Svensen  was  n't 
in  a  condition  to  answer  back.  He  'd  just  put  the 
poor  fellow  away  decent  and  in  order,  and  no  ques- 
tions asked.'  I  said  that  he  might  be  right,  for  all 
I  knew.  He  probably  knew  the  Rev.  Mr.  Bell  better 
than  I  did." 

John  turned  upon  him,  his  lips  parted  for  a  retort. 
The  white  light  from  the  window  brought  out  ridges 
and  creases  in  the  speaker's  face  the  observer  had 
never  seen  there  before.  The  lean  hands  that  chafed 


Rev.  C.  Mather  tf^elsb       73 

one  another  nervously  were  rough  and  blue ;  the 
shrunken  veins  crawled  feebly  over  bones  and 
tendons ;  the  prominent  ears  were  bloodless ;  the 
features  were  pinched.  The  aspect  of  the  man  was 
that  of  one  not  merely  chilled  to  the  bone,  but 
starved.  He  reminded  Bell  of  a  hungry  tramp  dog 
shivering  at  a  bleak  street  corner. 

"  I  must  beg  you  to  excuse  me  again  for  a  moment," 
said  John,  courteously  and  very  kindly.  "  There  is  a 
little  matter  I  have  to  speak  to  my  sister  about,  while 
I  think  of  it.  Then  we  will  talk  further  of  our 
business." 

When  he  had  gone,  Welsh  let  go  of  himself  and 
leaned  back  in  the  warmed  recess  of  the  cushioned 
chair.  It  was  roomy  and  comfortable.  The  elastic 
fluffiness  fitted  gratefully  into  tired  angles  and  braced 
the  aching  muscles.  The  racking  vigil  of  the  last 
night,  fasting,  and  mental  stress  combined  with  the 
sense  of  humiliating  failure  to  overcome  his  physical 
forces.  For  the  next  few  minutes  he  might  be  off 
guard. 

When  Bell  returned,  the  snap  of  the  bolt  into  the 
socket  and  jar  of  the  closing  door  did  not  arouse  his 
visitor.  Doubled  together  in  a  loose  bunch  of 
shabby  clothes,  huddled  limbs,  and  hanging  head,  the 
doughty  warrior  for  the  right  slumbered  in  the  shine 
of  the  anthracite  fire,  cradled  peacefully  in  the  big 
arm-chair. 

John  drew  down  the  window-shades  noiselessly, 
and  seated  himself.  It  seemed  a  sin  to  be  well  and 
vigorous,  well-fed,  well-lodged,  so  content  with  his 
world,  so  happy  in  his  work  as  he  was,  while  he 
looked  at  that  pitiful  shape. 

Welsh's  shoes  were  patched,  worn  down  at  the 
heel,  rubbed  and  rusty  on  the  sides ;  the  cuffs  of 
the  gray  flannel  shirt  were  soiled  and  frayed;  the 
wrinkles  on  the  back  of  the  neck  exposed  by  the 


74  Dr.  Dale 

drooping  head  were  laid  out  in  a  diagonal  criss- 
cross pattern,  deep  and  regular;  the  nails  of  the 
chapped  hands  were  broken  and  dirty;  the  chin 
bristled  with  a  two  days'  beard,  sandy  and  gray.  The 
strait-breasted  black  coat  and  vest,  worn  as  a  duty  to 
his  sacred  calling,  were  whitened  at  the  seams  and 
napless  all  over.  Two  buttons  were  gone  from  the 
vest;  the  pantaloons  bagged  at  the  knees,  and  the 
bags  were  worn  thin. 

"  What  right  have  I  to  be  warmed  and  clothed," 
mused  honest  John,  "  to  wear  clean  linen,  to  take 
time  to  bathe,  to  eat,  and  to  sleep,  while  he  lives  in 
a  wretched  shanty  with  just  enough  creature-com- 
forts to  hold  body  and  soul  together?  Are  we  not 
soldiers  in  one  and  the  same  army?  " 

He  took  up  a  book, — not  to  read,  but  in  case 
Welsh  should  awake  unexpectedly  and  catch  him 
staring  at  him,  if  he  had  no  other  occupation  for  his 
eyes.  The  book  chanced  to  be  Thomas  a  Kempis's 
Imitation  of  Christ.  The  title  kept  John's  thoughts 
in  the  channel  dug  for  them  by  the  missionary's  visit 
and  story.  There  were  many  pleasanter  themes 
he  might  have  chosen  for  that  half-hour's  medi- 
tations. 

It  was  a  very  sober  face  which  Welsh  saw,  as  it 
were  in  a  dream,  for  an  instant,  upon  awaking  with 
a  guilty  start  from  his  nap. 

When  he  would  have  struggled  to  his  feet,  a 
stammer  of  apology  upon  his  tongue,  John  stayed 
him  peremptorily. 

"  I  am  ever  so  much  obliged  to  you  for  the  com- 
pliment you  have  paid  to  my  Sleepy  Hollow  chair," 
he  said  lightly.  "  I  invariably  fall  asleep  in  it,  and 
even  Dale,  who  suffers  from  insomnia,  can  never 
resist  it.  Now,"  as  the  door  was  unclosed  from 
without,  "  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  join  me  in  the 
twelve  o'clock  luncheon  my  good  housemother 


Rev.  C.  Mather  Welsh         75 

always  sends  in  to  me  when  she  knows  I  shall  not  be 
in  to  dinner." 

Gretchen  set  a  great  tray  upon  a  table  Bell  rolled 
away  from  the  wall  and  nearer  to  the  fire.  The 
aromatic  breath  of  steaming  coffee  greeted  Welsh's 
nostrils,  and,  as  the  maid  removed  a  shining  cover 
from  a  steak,  juicy,  brown,  and  smoking  hot,  the 
water  gathering  in  his  mouth  smothered  his  attempted 
refusal. 

It  was  like  a  continued  dream  to  find  himself  seated 
opposite  the  man  he  disapproved  of  with  all  his  might, 
and  sharing  in  the  goods  provided  for  that  man's 
fleshly  enjoyment. 

Bell  was  not  hungry,  but  pretended  to  be  to  make 
the  half-famished  man  tolerant  of  the  hunger  he  tried 
to  hide.  The  host  did  all  the  talking,  seasoning  his 
cheerful  chat  with  second  helps  of  coffee,  steak,  and 
hot  biscuits. 

"  Nobody  else  makes  such  bread  and  biscuits  as 
Mrs.  Bowersox,"  he  ran  on.  "  She  will  be  pleased 
to  know  that  you  like  these.  I  never  stop  short  of 
three.  As  for  Jeff,  —  do  you  know  that  jolly  little 
kid  ?  I  am  afraid  to  say  how  many  he  can  stand  up 
to,  when  he  is  put  upon  his  mettle.  I  was  a  stranger 
when  I  came  to  what  is  now  Pitvale.  The  dear 
lady  took  me  in,  after  her  own  generous  fashion,  and 
has  been  like  a  mother  to  me  ever  since.  She  knows 
that  when  I  say  at  breakfast,  '  Don't  wait  dinner  for 
me,'  I  mean  all-day  business.  She  may  not  see  me 
again  until  night.  For  fear  I  should  faint  and  fall  by 
the  way  she  fills  me  up  with  such  provender  as  this. 
I  may  not  really  need  it.  I  eat  as  much  as  I  can  to 
spare  her  feelings." 

"  I  am  quite  ashamed  of  myself  for  being  so 
greedy,"  Welsh  found  words  to  say,  as  he  pushed  his 
chair  away  from  the  table,  and  John  rang  for  Gretchen 
to  remove  the  tray.  "  But  I  forgot  to  eat  my  break- 


76  Dr.  Dale 

fast.  Having  so  much  on  my  mind,  you  know.  I 
had  no  idea  how  hungry  I  was  until  I  smelled  the 
coffee.  I  am  very  dependent  upon  my  coffee." 

Inwardly  he  was  quaking  with  dread  lest  Bell 
should  offer  him  a  cigar,  in  which  case  he  would 
be  compelled  to  testify  against  the  filthy  vice.  And 
testimony  would  not  be  smooth  sailing,  even  with 
C.  Mather,  when  his  stomach  was  so  nobly  replen- 
ished by  the  hospitality  of  the  offender. 

Some  good  people  are  never  satisfied  with  the  de- 
gree of  sensitiveness  their  consciences  are  naturally 
endowed  with,  and  what  they  have  gained  through 
the  ordinary  processes  of  gracious  cultivation.  They 
keep  up  a  constant  attrition  of  the  surface  by  self- 
examination  and  all  manner  of  uncharitableness  with 
their  own  deeds,  words,  and  thoughts. 

Welsh  may  be  said  to  have  sand-papered  his  con- 
science to  a  tenderness  that  made  a  touch  agony, 
that  shrank  and  quivered  at  a  breath.  Already  he 
felt  the  smart  consequent  upon  the  weak  yielding  to 
carnal  appetite.  This  plausible  heretic  had  taken 
advantage  of  his  forlorn  state  and  laid  him  under 
obligation  to  deal  gently  with  his  faults.  The  watch- 
man had,  literally  and  figuratively,  slept  upon  his 
post. 

He  girded  up  the  loins  of  his  spirit  for  the  assault 
that  was  to  reinstate  him  in  his  self-respect.  He 
had  no  hope  of  making  his  opponent  yield  one 
inch. 

"  You  are  not  smoking,  Brother  Bell.  I  supposed 
that  you  could  not  enjoy  eating  without  it." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  do  not  smoke,  sometimes,  for 
days  together,  —  never  when  I  am  likely  to  go  into  a 
sick-room.  Sometimes,  when  my  mind  is  full  of 
other  things,  I  forget  my  cigar." 

"  Forget  it !  Can  your  right  hand  forget  its 
cunning?  " 


Rev.  C.  Mather  tf^elsb       77 

"  Such  things  have  been,"  rejoined  Bell,  smiling. 
"  But  about  this  sad  affair,  the  business  to  which  I 
owe  the  pleasure  of  your  visit.  Before  dismissing 
what  is  a  painful  subject  to  us  both,  let  me  say  that  I 
will  go  directly  to  the  house  in  which  Svensen  died, 
and  see  those  men.  They  are  a  rough  set,  and,  as 
you  say,  hardly  responsible  for  what  they  did  this 
morning." 

"  I  said  nothing  of  the  kind  !  "  The  sparse  sandy 
locks  fairly  bristled  in  the  heat  of  the  denial. 
"  Every  man  is  responsible  at  all  times  for  the  deeds 
done  in  the  body.  If  he  wilfully  deprive  himself 
for  the  time  being  of  his  sober  senses,  his  sin  is  the 
greater,  not  less.  The  law  of  man  does  not  excuse 
homicide  when  committed  by  a  drunken  person. 
The  law  of  God  bars  the  drunkard  out  of  heaven.  I 
am  not  your  equal  in  education,  Brother  Bell,  nor  in 
worldly  wealth  and  social  consequence.  I  am  your 
senior  in  years,  and  I  warn  you  where  the  responsi- 
bility rests  for  much  of  the  debauchery  that  makes 
this  place  like  unto  the  mouth  of  hell.  It  rests  upon 
you  and  your  godless,  mocking  coadjutor,  Dr.  Dale. 
I  could  wish  from  my  soul  —  God  knows  I  lie  not  in 
saying  it !  —  that  I  could  lay  most  of  the  blame  upon 
him.  He  is,  if  I  am  rightly  informed,  not  a  believer. 
Is  this  so?" 

The  answer  was  prompt  and  temperate. 

"  I  must  ask  that,  in  Dr.  Dale's  absence,  you  con- 
fine yourself  to  the  strictures  conscience  constrains 
you  to  pass  upon  my  conduct,  and,  so  far  as  you  can 
appreciate  them,  upon  my  motives.  When  you  have 
finished,  I  shall  ask  further  that  you  listen  to  my  de- 
fence as  patiently  as  I  have  heard  your  attack." 

"  Have  you  never  asked  your  conscience,  in  con- 
nection with  the  joint  work  of  yourself  and  Dr.  Dale, 
'  What  concord  hath  Christ  with  Belial  ? '  "  interro- 
gated Welsh. 


78  Dr.  Dale 

Bell's  mustache  quivered  above  a  passing  smile ; 
then  he  spoke  seriously,  — 

"  It  is  safe  to  say  that  the  text  has  never  occurred 
to  me  in  this  connection.  And  you  will  excuse  me 
for  adding,  that  there  is,  to  my  mind,  a  savour  of  ir- 
reverence in  the  profuse  application  of  Scripture  to 
whatever  jumps  with  our  individual  views  and 
moods." 

Welsh  passed  by  the  hint  in  word.  That  he  was 
touched  in  a  sore  place  was  apparent  in  the  increase 
of  heat  in  his  rejoinder,  — 

"  Nor,  when  the  hell-defying  crew  who  frequent 
The  Bachelors'  Club  six  nights  in  the  week  fill  the 
galleries  of  your  church  on  Sunday,  bring  their 
babies  to  be  sprinkled  by  your  hands,  and  on  Sunday 
evenings  crowd  your  music-hall,  your  theatre,  your 
dance-house,  or  whatever  you  please  to  call  it,  to  be 
led  in  psalms  and  hymns  and  spiritual  songs  —  oh,  the 
blasphemy  of  it  all !  —  by  the  band  of  this  unbeliever's 
organising,  and,  if  I  am  rightly  informed,  with  him  at 
the  organ ! 

"  Don't  interrupt  me,  Brother  Bell !  The  blood 
of  Svensen,  the  blood  of  other  souls,  cries  unto 
Heaven  for  vengeance.  '  God  is  not  mocked  !  What- 
soever a  man  soweth  that  shall  he  also  reap.'  You 
are  sowing  unto  the  flesh.  You  shall  reap  as  you 
have  sowed,  you  shall  gather  as  you  have  strewed. 
Listen  to  me  !  " 

He  was  on  his  feet,  pacing  the  floor  with  uneven 
strides,  sawing  the  air  with  both  hands  while  he  ha- 
rangued, stopping  at  the  most  strenuous  passages  to 
shake  a  clenched  fist  in  John  Bell's  face. 

"  I  met  you  one  night  ten  days  ago,  in  front  of  The 
Oilman's  Rest.  I  had  written  the  word  '  Curse '  in 
place  of  '  Rest '  upon  the  window.  I  was  led  to  the 
act,  I  verily  believe,  my  spirit  being  moved  by  holy 
indignation.  You  may  recollect  the  talk  we  had. 


Rev.  C.  Mather  Welsh       79 

When  I  parted  with  you,  I  turned  back  to  the  place 
where  we  had  seen  the  men  fighting,  for  I  bethought 
me  of  the  priest  and  the  Levite.  I  found  Svensen 
weltering  in  his  blood.  He  died  last  night.  What 
have  you  to  say  as  to  your  complicity  in  his 
murder?" 

John  Bell,  too,  had  risen  as  the  arraignment  went 
on.  Resting  one  arm  on  the  mantel,  he  eyed  the 
excited  speaker  with  calm  intentness.  At  the  last 
sentence  he  took  a  step  forward,  and  raised  his 
hand  imperatively,  —  the  gesture,  although  this  Welsh 
did  not  know,  which  had  ere  this,  once  and  again, 
quelled  insubordination  and  compelled  respect  from  a 
drunken  mob. 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  the  chance  to  say  what  I  have 
tried  several  times  to  state  to  you  dispassionately, 
Mr.  Welsh. 

"  The  average  operative,"  speaking  deliberately 
and  with  dignity,  "  be  he  mill-hand,  oilman,  miner, 
mechanic,  or  day-labourer,  will  have  either  a  tonic  or 
a  stimulant  to  brace  him  for  his  work,  or  to  invigor- 
ate him  when  he  is  tired  by  work.  If  I  had  the  mak- 
ing of  the  operative  from  the  beginning  and  of  his 
forebears,  he  should  be  a  water-drinker.  He  comes 
to  me  ready-made.  His  appetites,  his  will,  and,  God 
help  him  !  his  temptations,  —  are  full-grown.  Most  of 
our  men  are  Dutch  and  Germans.  In  their  own 
country  beer  and  tobacco  are  to  them  what  tea  and 
coffee  are  to  us,  simple  necessaries  of  daily  living. 
If  I  were  to  tell  them  that  to  drink  beer  is  a  sin  and 
to  smoke  a  vice,  they  would  set  me  down  as  a  fanatic 
or  a  fool.  Their  Christian  forefathers  drank  beer, 
smoked  tobacco,  lived  honestly  and  temperately,  and 
went  to  heaven,  they  would  say.  I  cannot  deny  it.  I 
should  stultify  myself  if  I  were  to  attempt  to  argue 
the  matter  with  them.  Here  lies  the  case :  since  I 
have  not  virgin  ore  to  work  upon,  I  must  suit  my 


8o  Dr.  Dale 

methods  to  such  material  as  I  have.  As  a  result,  I 
win  them  to  sobriety  and  to  decency.  They  come 
willingly  to  religious  services,  the  more  interesting  to 
them  because  they  have  a  part  in  them.  When  I 
visit  the  married  men  in  their  homes,  they  listen 
attentively  to  my  teachings.  They  send  their  chil- 
dren to  our  week-day  and  Sunday  schools. 

"As  I  said  to  you  the  other  night,  I  should  not 
hesitate  to  take  you,  at  any  time  and  unannounced, 
into  any  part  of  our  Club-House.  My  boys  would 
justify  my  faith  in  them. 

"  I  have  taken  up  my  work  after  much  thought 
and  prayer.  I  ask  the  blessing  of  God  upon  it  con- 
tinually. He  knows  how  well  I  mean,  —  how  earnestly 
I  long  to  be  a  tool  in  His  hands,  if  by  any  means 
I  may  save  some.  As  you  must  know,  it  is  not  all 
plain  sailing.  My  discouragements  are  many  and 
trying.  If  I  had  less  faith  in  the  honesty  of  my 
purpose,  if  I  were  less  certain  that  I  am  doing  God's 
work  and  in  the  way  that  seems  to  me  right,  I 
should  lay  it  down  to-morrow.  If  I  meet  my  opera- 
tive with  a  doubled  fist,  I  antagonise  him.  When  he 
has  laid  his  hand  in  mine,  I  may  draw  him.  Not 
invariably,  but  oftener  than  if  I  began  my  mission  by 
knocking  him  down. 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  you  now  or 
ever  again  in  vindication  of  my  boys  or  my  motives 
and  methods.  Dr.  Dale  is  able  to  take  care  of 
himself." 

C.  Mather  Welsh  had  snatched  up  his  broad- 
brimmed  hat,  and  was  twisting  it  round  and  round 
upon  his  threadbare  sleeve.  He  trembled  from  head 
to  foot  as  with  cold ;  his  eyes  were  bloodshot ;  he 
brought  out  his  words  with  queer  corresponding 
movements  of  the  head,  as  if  they  hurt  the  back  of 
his  throat  in  passing. 

"  And  /  have  had  my  last  say,  Mr.  Bell !     You  are 


Rev.  C.  Mather  fiPelsb       81 

young,  hasty,  headstrong,  wise  in  your  own  conceit. 
You  have  been  inoculated  with  the  virus  of  worldly 
conformity,  of  temporising  with  sin.  You  are 
fighting  hellfire  with  a  jug  of  cream.  I  had  dared 
to  hope  that  you  might  be  led  to  see  the  evil  of 
your  ways;  that,  under  your  apparent  worldliness 
and  levity,  there  might  be  some  seeds  of  saving 
grace.  I  was  mistaken.  Because  I  have  eaten  of 
your  food  and  drunk  of  your  cup  is  no  reason  why 
I  should  use  smooth  words  with  you.  I  wash  my 
hands  of  you  and  yours.  '  Ephraim  is  joined  to  his 
idols.  Let  him  alone  !  ' 

"  You  may  still  recollect  enough  of  your  mother's 
Bible,  as  she  read  it  before  the  day  of  higher  criti- 
cism and  beer-soaked  Christianity,  to  know  what 
must  be  the  doom  of  '  idolaters  and  sorcerers  and 
whoremongers  and  murderers,  and  whosoever  loveth 
and  maketh  a  lie !  " 

"And  then,"  —  finished  John,  in  telling  the  story 
to  his  sister,  "  he  jerked  out  of  my  hands  the  over- 
coat I  would  have  helped  him  put  on,  and,  like 
Naaman  the  Syrian,  he  went  away  in  a  rage.  There 
were  tears  in  his  eyes,  for  all  that.  He  hates  me 
and  abjures  my  works,  but  he  is  a  good  man." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"OUR   LADY   OF  PEACE" 

"  She  doeth  little  kindnesses 
Which  most  leave  undone  or  despise, 
For  naught  that  sets  one  heart  at  ease, 
And  giveth  happiness  or  peace, 
Is  low-esteemed  in  her  eyes." 

"  ""W'ANUARY  roses  and  spruce  footman  hardly 
I   prepared  me  for  this  ! "  Myrtle  Bell  breathed 
I  to  her  brother  as  they  crossed  the  tiled  floor 
I  of  the  Folger  mansion. 

The  house  was  of  solid  gray  stone,  colonial 
in  style,  with  a  wing  on  each  side  of  the  main  build- 
ing,   and    a   columned   veranda    crossing   the    front. 
]  The  grounds  were  spacious  and  laid  out  tastefully. 
jWith  rare  good  sense  the  owners  had  resisted  the 
/  arguments  of   the    Philadelphia   landscape-gardener 
\  who  would  have  felled  a  dozen  trees  of  native  growth 
that  interfered  with  his  design.     A  giant  walnut  was 
on  one  side  of  the  entrance;   a  spreading  oak  upon 
the  other.     Thrifty  arbor-vitae   hedged    the  avenue 
winding   to   the  massive   iron   gates.      Glass-houses 
were   partially  screened   by  clumps    of  spruce   and 
pine. 

Within-doors  the  air  was  as  balmy  as  June.  Ori- 
ental rugs  were  scattered  over  the  tiles;  divans 
of  satin  and  damask,  heaped  with  cushions,  were 
against  the  walls  ;  easy-chairs  of  divers  patterns 
stood  invitingly  about  the  hall ;  vases  of  cut  flowers 
and  plants  in  pots  were  upon  tables  and  mantel; 
a  fire  of  logs  burned  behind  brass  fender  and  antique 
fire-dogs. 


"Our  Lady  of  Peace"        83 

Myrtle  had  time  for  a  hasty  glance  at  fine  engrav- 
ings and  etchings  hung  in  good  lights,  and  to  see  that 
folding-doors  connected  the  hall  with  drawing-rooms 
and  library,  before  the  stately  footman  who  preceded 
them  with  measured,  soundless  tread,  unclosed  a 
door  at  the  back  of  the  hall,  and  bowed  them  into  the 
presence  of  his  mistress. 

Miss  Bell's  unspoken  exclamation  was  that  neither 
affluence  of  rose-bloom  nor  the  tales  she  had  heard 
of  the  heiress's  generosity  could  have  conjured  up 
the  apparition  that  now  met  her  sight. 

The  walls  of  the  large  room  were  pearl-gray; 
upon  the  blended  gray-and-white  shades  of  the  velvet 
carpet  were  cast  white  fur  rugs;  chairs,  sofas, -and 
ottomans  were  covered  with  white-and-silver  stuffs 
combined  with  softest  gray  and  pearly  tints ;  white 
tiles  framed  the  fireplace  and  formed  the  hearth; 
curtains  of  white  silk  and  lace  tempered  the  glare  of 
the  snowy  lawn  lying  under  four  long  windows. 

All  the  colour  in  the  wonderful  spaciousness  came 
from  the  leaping  fire  in  the  wide  chimney,  and  the 
face  of  her  whose  lounging-chair  was  in  full  view' 
of  the  door  and  the  coming  guests. 

This  face  it  was  which,  catching  Myrtle's  eye,  left 
her  no  thought  for  anything  else.  But  for  the  fine 
chiselling  of  the  features  which  does  not  go  with 
extreme  youth,  she  might  have  been  not  a  day  over 
sixteen.  She  was,  really,  twenty-six.  Her  hair  was  of 
that  uncommon  and  least  describable  colour  known 
to  the  French  as  blond  cendree.  Although  perfectly 
straight,  it  lay  in  fluffy  masses  about  her  head  and 
rolled  back  loosely  from  a  face  as  pale  as  wax,  yet 
not  sickly.  Out  of  the  clear  fairness  looked  dark- 
gray  eyes  so  intensely  alive  that  Myrtle  was  fairly 
startled  by  their  full  gaze. 

The  smile  with  which  she  held  out  both  hands  to 
her  visitor  was  glad  and  sweet, 


84  Dr.  Dale 

"  I  am  very,  very  happy  to  see  you  !  It  is  good  in 
you  to  come  to  me  on  your  first  day  in  your  new 
home,"  she  said,  brightly. 

Moved  by  irresistible  emotion,  Myrtle  stooped 
and  kissed  her  forehead  mutely,  then,  still  holding 
her  hand,  sank  into  the  low  chair  set  ready  for  her 
beside  the  chaise  longue,  and  gazed  at  her  for  a  half- 
minute  before  she  got  senses  and  words  in  order. 

"  Oh-h-h  !  "  she  sighed  then,  just  as  she  had  over 
the  wealth  of  roses  that  morning.  "  I  never  thought 
you  were  like  this  !  " 

The  words  may  not  have  been  flattering.  Tone 
and  look  were  unequivocal.  Ruth  laughed,  —  a  low 
ripple  of  pleasure  that  told  her  appreciation  of  the 
tribute.  John  took  hold  of  his  sister's  shoulders. 

"  Steady,  little  woman !  Be  explicit !  '  Like ' 
what?" 

"  Like  an  annunciation  lily,  when  I  expected  to  see 
a  wind-flower.  The  livest  creature  I  ever  saw,  when 
I  was  full  of  sympathy  for  an  invalid  !  " 

The  soft  ripple  answered  her  again,  — 

"  I  do  not  call  myself  an  invalid  any  longer.  I  am 
never  ill,  —  seldom  ailing,  except  when  I  think  I 
ought  to  humour  Kate.  Miss  Bell !  let  me  introduce 
my  friend,  Miss  Meagley." 

The  companion  advanced  from  the  background, 
where,  in  the  shadow  of  a  screen,  she  had  escaped 
the  stranger's  notice.  John  had  seen  and  bowed  to 
her  while  his  sister  was  absorbed  in  contemplation  of 
Miss  Folger. 

Myrtle  arose  with  a  graceful  apology  for  the  over- 
sight, and  the  two  shook  hands. 

By  a  mutual  and,  to  one  of  them,  an  inexplicable 
impulse,  each  met  the  other's  eyes  straight  and 
searchingly. 

"  I  know  I  shall  hate  her !  "  was  Kate's  mental 
conviction. 


"Our  Lady  of  Peace"        85 

Myrtle  said  inly ;  "  Here  is  a  false  note  in  the 
symphony  of  Our  Lady  of  Peace !  " 

Her  eyes  returned  gratefully  to  Ruth,  as  to  a  pic- 
ture that  would  certainly  reward  the  student. 

The  heiress's  white  gown  was  of  fine  woolen  stuff, 
sweeping  over  her  feet  in  large,  easy  folds.  It  was 
trimmed  around  the  bottom  of  the  skirt,  at  the  wrists, 
and  at  the  throat  with  swan's  down,  her  beautifully 
moulded  neck  rising  from  the  fleecy  bands  like  the 
white  stem  upholding  a  lily-cup. 

John  had  not  sat  down. 

"  Will  you  let  me  leave  my  sister  with  you  for  an 
hour?  "  he  was  saying  to  Ruth.  "  I  am  particularly 
busy  to-day,  and  cannot  indulge  myself  by  staying. 
I  will  call  for  her  about  sunset." 

A  shadow  deepened  the  eyes  uplifted  to  him  as  he 
towered  above  her. 

"  Ah !  "  with  instant  comprehension  of  the  nature 
of  some  of  his  engagements.  "  I  heard  of  that  poor 
Swede's  death,  and  supposed  you  might  be  sent  for, 
or — that  you  would  be  likely  to  go,  in  any  case.  I 
had  a  note  from  Mr.  Welsh  this  morning,  and  an- 
swered it.  As  he  said,  the  man  had  a  claim  upon  us. 
You  will  let  me  know  if  I  can  be  of  any  use?  There 
is  no  wife  or  child,  I  believe?  " 

"  None.     He  had  no  relatives  in  America." 

"  That  is  good !  I  hope  he  has  neither  mother 
nor  sister  at  home  !  "  wistful  tenderness  in  voice  and 
look.  "  I  shall  be  more  than  happy  to  have  Miss  Bell 
stay  with  me  for  as  many  hours  as  you  can  spare  her, 
as  long  as  she  can  content  herself  in  our  quiet  nook." 

"'Content'  is  not  a  word  to  be  used  here  and 
now,"  said  Myrtle,  nestling  into  her  chair  with  the  air 
of  one  who  has  an  assured  pleasure  in  anticipation. 
"  I  enter  now,  if  never  before,  into  the  heart  of  the 
meaning  of  Tennyson's 

'  There  is  no  joy  but  calm.' 


86  Dr.  Dale 

I  read  in  an  old  book  popular  in  my  mother's 
girlhood  —  one  of  Miss  Bremer's  novels,  The  Neigh- 
bours —  of  a  room  in  a  homestead  known  as  '  The 
Innermost.'  It  was  occupied  by  a  real,  not  a 
nominal  invalid,"  smiling  at  her  hostess,  "  and  all 
family  perplexities  and  joys  and  sorrows  were  brought 
to  her  to  be  set  right  or  sympathised  with.  It  was  a 
study  of  perspective,  you  see.  Being  out  of  the  rush- 
ing world,  she  could  judge  of  rights  and  wrongs  better 
than  those  who  were  in  it.  I  am  sure  this  is  The 
Innermost  of  this  house.  It  is  like  Percival's  '  coral- 
grove.'  You  recollect  that 

'The  winds  and  waves  are  absent  there.' 

And  the  coral  is  all  white." 

The  speaking  eyes  were  flooded  with  serene 
light. 

"  When  I  was  a  real  invalid,"  —  with  an  arch  gleam 
shot  at  Miss  Meagley,  —  "a  confusion  of  colours  was 
torture  to  eyes  and  nerves.  White  and  gray  quieted 
me.  That  was  the  way  I  fell  into  the  fancy  of  hav- 
ing nothing  else  about  me.  Then  I  got '  set  in  my 
notions,'  like  other  spinsters  —  " 

Myrtle  interposed  with  merry  petulance. 

"  That  was  another  reason  for  my  ridiculous  be- 
haviour when  I  first  saw  you.  I  had  got  into  my 
stupid  head  the  idea  that  you  were  an  elderly  lady  — 
as  estimable  as  elderly  —  nice  and  good,  oh,  so  good  ! 
—  a  cappy  and  a  happy  Lady  Bountiful  of  uncertain 
age  and  certain  virtues.  As  Jeemes  Yellow-plush 
says,  '  Phansy  my  pheelinx '  when  I  saw  you  —  as 
you  are !  Do  you  wonder  the  crash  of  my  ideal 
about  my  ears  took  away  my  wits  and  manners  for 
an  instant?  " 

"  From  whom  could  you  have  got  such  an  extraor- 
dinary impression?" 

Beyond    the   prim    pronunciation   of    Miss    Bell's 


"Our  Lady  of  Peace"        87 

name  as  she  was  introduced  to  her,  Miss  Meagley  had 
not  spoken  since  the  visitor's  entrance  until  now. 

She  sat  by  a  window,  quite  withdrawn  from  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  the  others,  her  hands  busied  in 
pulling  threads  out  of  a  square  of  linen  preparatory 
to  a  bit  of  elaborate  "drawn  work,"  her  eyes  ap- 
parently intent  upon  it.  Myrtle  was,  nevertheless, 
positive,  when  her  smooth  accents  slid  into  the  con- 
versation, that  she  had  not  lost  a  word  or  glance  that 
had  passed. 

The  rejoinder  was  studiously  careless  and  lightly 
uttered. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  It  'just  growed,'  I  think,  from 
such  beginnings  as  sundry  allusions  to  Miss  Folger's 
many  charitable  deeds,  and  the  respect  with  which 
she  is  always  named.  My  volatile  fancy  is  account- 
able for  the  rest.  I  may  be  grateful  to  it,  too,  for  an 
enchanting  surprise." 

"  I  thought  it  strange  "  —  as  creamily  as  before  — 
"  that  Mr.  Bell  should  convey  such  an  impression. 
He  never  flatters,  as  everybody  knows.  But  the 
image  of  a  starched  old  maid  in  cap  and  spectacles 
is  a  little  too  preposterous !  " 

This  with  a  laugh  that  sugared  the  cream. 

Generous  heat  crept  up  to  Myrtle's  cheeks.  She 
fitted  a  curb  upon  the  check-rein  of  civil  discretion. 

"  My  brother  would  be  the  first  person  to  see  the 
absurdity  if  he  were  to  hear  it.  Especially  as  the 
little  he  said  of  Miss  Folger's  personelle  ought  to 
have  led  me  to  the  opposite  conclusion.  He  told  me 
she  was  the  happiest  person  he  had  ever  seen. 
Then,  too,  I  was  so  much  surprised  to  learn  that  Mr. 
Ralph  Folger  is  her  brother  that  I  took  too  many 
other  things  for  granted." 

Against  will  and  judgment  she  was  nettled  into 
prolonging  the  explanation  by  the  slow  smile  enlarg- 
ing the  "  baby-stare  "  and  lifting  the  short  upper  lip. 


88  Dr.  Dale 

Miss  Meagley  was  looking  directly  at  her,  and  ex- 
pectantly, from  a  safe  position  slightly  out  of  the 
range  of  Ruth's  observation. 

Myrtle  addressed  herself  pointedly  to  her  hostess. 

"  I  met  Mr.  Ralph  Folger  in  Venice  last  winter,  and 
again  at  Rome  in  Holy  Week." 

Ruth's  eyes  lighted  up  gloriously. 

"  Is  it  possible?  And  he  never  spoke  of  it  in  any 
of  his  letters !  He  is  a  notoriously  unsatisfactory 
correspondent  at  all  times.  When  he  is  abroad  his 
epistles  are  usually  in  the  form  of  cable-despatches. 
'I  am  well!  How  are  you?  Answer,'  is  the  sum 
and  substance  of  most  of  them.  Yet  it  is  odd  he 
did  not  tell  me  he  had  met  you,  if  only  because  of 
his  friendship  with  Mr.  Bell,"  she  subjoined  with 
instinctive  delicacy. 

Myrtle  was  quick  to  answer  and  avoid  the  chance 
of  embarrassment.  The  sister  must  not  imagine,  her 
companion  must  not  believe,  that  she  was  irked  at 
the  brother's  indifference  to  herself. 

"  Our  talk  did  not  run  much  upon  personalities. 
I  was  travelling  with  a  party,  and  v/e  had  few  oppor- 
tunities of  speaking  of  anything  except  sight-seeing 
and  incidents  of  travel.  I  did  not  even  know  that  he 
was  from  Pitvale.  He  did  not  suspect  that  John  is 
my  brother.  You  know  how  much  there  is  abroad 
to  keep  eyes  and  tongues  busy." 

"  Miss  Folger  has  never  been  abroad,"  remarked 
the  Middle  Miss  Meagley,  with  a  return  to  the  for- 
mality that  had  stiffened  her  reception  of  the 
stranger. 

In  saying  it  she  leaned  further  back,  and  pointed 
an  admonitory  finger  at  the  swathed  feet  supported 
by  the  foot-rest  of  the  lounging-chair.  Her  arched 
eyebrows  emphasised  the  caution.  Both  convicted 
the  unwary  speaker  of  treading  tactlessly  upon 
delicate  ground. 


"  Our  Lady  of  Peace"        89 

Myrtle  bit  her  lip  in  vexation  manifest  to  the  cool 
green  eyes  and  a  satisfaction  to  the  soul  behind  them. 
Here  were  sensitive  nerves  and  a  thin  moral  cuticle. 

Kate  Meagley  had  never  read  Edmond  About's  Le 
Roi  des  Montagues,  but  she  understood  as  well  as  the 
old  bandit  chief  what  torture  could  be  inflicted  by 
plucking  out  one  hair  at  a  time. 

Ruth,  unobservant  of  the  by-play,  was  musing 
happily,  her  hands,  perfect  in  contour  and  white  as 
magnolia  petals,  laid  together  upon  the  Canton  crepe 
shawl  thrown  over  her  lap  and  lower  limbs ;  her  eyes 
were  deep  and  dreamful. 

"  He  is  the  most  unexpected  of  human  creatures," 
she  said,  smilingly.  "  I  can  never  guess  within  a 
thousand  miles  of  his  whereabouts.  When  I  fancy 
him  cooling  his  hot  head  (he  says  his  hair  keeps  up 
the  supply  of  caloric),  cooling  his  head  in  Norway, 
he  is  as  likely  as  not  to  be  crossing  the  line  on  the 
way  to  Cape  Town.  His  rooms  are  always  ready  for 
him.  Sometimes  he  makes  me  supremely  happy  by 
occupying  them  for  a  month;  oftener  he  alights, 
like  a  humming-bird,  for  a  sip  of  home-made  honey, 
and  is  off  again  before  I  am  really  sure  I  have  seen 
him.  But,"  tenderly,  "  he  is  a  dear  brother  always. 
His  goodness  to  me  is  past  finding  out.  There  is  no 
uncertainty  there." 

"  A  good  brother,  like  yours  and  mine,  is  one  of 
Heaven's  perfect  gifts,"  said  Myrtle,  again  at  her 
ease.  "  In  the  course  of  our  short  acquaintance,  I 
had  several  proofs  of  Mr.  Folger's  kindness  of  heart. 
By  the  way,  we  miscalled  him  '  Foalger '  over  there. 
That  was  one  reason  I  did  n't  find  out  sooner  who  he 
was.  He  spoiled  beggars  and  flower-sellers  by  scat- 
tering lire  instead  of  soldi  among  them.  I  am  afraid 
the  next  party  of  tourists  paid  the  penalty  of  his 
liberality." 

"  You  have  seen  comparatively  little  of  your  brother 


90  Dr.  Dale 

since  you  were  a  child,  I  believe,  Miss  Bell,"  observed 
Miss  Meagley,  in  a  resolved-to-make-conversation 
tone.  "  It  must  be  like  getting  acquainted  over 
again,  now  that  you  are  living  together  at  last." 

The  tweak  was  futile.  Myrtle's  light  laugh  was 
joyous  and  confident. 

"  Oh,  no !  Jack  and  I  have  kept  in  touch.  He  is 
very  fortunate  in  having  so  pleasant  a  home,"  ad- 
dressing herself  again  to  Ruth,  and  so  decidedly  as 
to  present  the  coldest  of  cold  shoulders  to  the  third 
person  present.  "  Which  reminds  me  that  Mrs. 
Bowersox  desired  to  be  respectfully  remembered  to 
you." 

"  Thank  you  !  and  her !  I  have  the  sincerest  regard 
for  Mrs.  Bowersox.  And  my  little  favourite,  Jeff! 
What  is  his  latest  escapade?" 

"  He  is  watching  the  going  off  of  an  old  nail,  and 
the  coming  on  of  a  new,  upon  the  thumb  he  ham- 
mered out  of  shape  last  week.  He  explained  the 
process  to  me  in  full  to-day.  If  there  is  enough  of 
him  left  to  take  an  education,  he  will  be  the  great 
surgeon  of  his  day  when  he  grows  up.  I  never  saw 
another  child  who  had  such  an  intimate  acquaintance- 
ship with  his  own  anatomy." 

"The  dear  little  monkey!  I  wish  you  had  brought 
him  with  you.  With  all  his  pranks  he  is  sweet  and 
affectionate,  and  a  little  gentleman  at  heart." 

"  He  charged  me  with  a  message  to  you, "  Myrtle 
now  recalled.  "  He  '  would  have  come  to  call,  but 
he  was  afraid  Beautiful  might  be  lonesome  if  he  left 
him  before  he  was  used  to  home-folks.'  Beautiful 
is  an  Irish  setter  Dr.  Dale  brought  home  this  morn- 
ing, a  legacy  from  the  poor  Swede  who  died  last 
night." 

"  Beautiful !  what  a  silly  name  !  "  The  interjection 
was,  of  course,  Miss  Meagley's.  "  And  for  a  Swedish 
dog !  Of  course  Dr.  Dale  will  change  it." 


"  Our  Lady  of  P eace"        91 

Something  in  Myrtle's  face,  perhaps  a  slight  rise 
of  the  ever-ready  colour,  made  Miss  Folger  demur. 

"  Now,  I  like  it !  "  she  said.  "  It  is  uncommon, 
and  if  the  dog  is  as  handsome  as  the  better  members 
of  his  breed,  it  is  expressive.  Kate,  here,  does  not 
care  for  dogs,  while  I  love  them.  When  Ralph  is  at 
home,  he  gives  them  the  run  of  the  house.  He  has 
half  a  dozen  thoroughbreds  in  the  kennels  back  of 
the  garden.  I  wish  he  were  here  to  introduce  them 
to  you." 

"  I  shall  beg  for  the  pleasure  of  introducing  myself 
to  them  before  long.  A  thoroughbred,  intelligent 
dog  is  the  best  substitute  I  know  of  for  a  human 
friend.  Who  is  it  that  tells  of  the  epitaph  placed 
over  the  grave  of  one  who  perished  while  trying  to 
save  his  master's  life?  'He  died  to  save  his  friend. 
He  kneiv  no  better.  He  was  only  a  dog  ! '  " 

"  Has  Dr.  Dale  given  the  dog  with  the  ridiculous 
name  to  Jeff? "  queried  the  Middle  Miss  Meagley, 
suspending  her  fingers  in  air,  in  the  act  of  drawing  a 
thread,  and  rounding  her  eyes  at  Miss  Bell. 

"  Jeff  is  the  self-appointed  custodian  of  the  beauty," 
replied  Myrtle,  indifferently,  "who,  by  the  way,  is  a 
connoisseur  in  roses,  Miss  Folger.  I  wish  you  could 
have  seen  him  inspect  a  superb  jacqueminot  to-day, 
and  then  sniff  his  approval.  My  uncle  had  an  Irish 
setter,  Duke  by  name,  who  had  fine  taste  in  the 
matter  of  scenery,  sunsets,  and  moonlight.  I  shall 
never  love  another  dog  as  I  loved  Duke." 

"  You  may  change  your  mind  if  Beautiful  should 
ever  become  your  property,"  said  Miss  Meagley, 
blandly. 

"What  is  it,  little  woman?"  asked  John  Bell,  as  he 
and  his  sister  walked  down  the  hill  capped  by  the 
Folger  house. 

"  What  is  what  f  " 

"  Don't  try  that  on  at  this  late  day,  Miss  Pert!    As 


92  Dr.  Dale 

if  I  did  n't  know  that  something  is  out  of  gear  when 
your  heels  strike  sparks  and  your  chin  is  on  the  high 
level!  What  happened  up  there  to  stir  you  up? 
I  can  answer  for  Miss  Folger,  but  Miss  Meagley  is  a 
trifle  peculiar  sometimes." 

"  You  put  it  mildly !  "  said  Myrtle,  sarcastically. 
Then  she  broke  forth  with  :  "  How  that  nettle  and 
that  lily  can  dwell  together  in  unity  passes  my 
comprehension !  " 

John's  eyes  twinkled. 

"  Millennial  ?  "  he  suggested  teasingly.  "  I  admit 
the  lily,  and  all  the  name  implies.  But  are  n't  you 
rather  hard  upon  the  —  other?  It  is  one  of  Dale's 
pet  theories  that  every  human  being  is  capable  of 
any  degree  of  meanness  or  crime  if  confronted,  when 
off  guard,  by  the  temptation  to  which  he  is  most 
vulnerable.  He  maintains  that  there  is  such  an  one 
lurking  in  wait  for  each  of  us  somewhere." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  uttered  the  girl,  indignantly. 
"  I  would  trust  you  in  any  and  every  circumstance 
of  trial  —  which  means  temptation." 

"  I  would  n't  trust  myself.  '  Call  no  man  good  till 
he  dies.'  But  Miss  Kate  Meagley's  temptations  are 
manifold.  She  is  poor,  yet  surrounded  by  luxury 
and  wealth  that  belong  to  other  people.  She  is 
proud,  and  when  you  have  seen  her  family  you  will 
comprehend  how  bitter  her  mortifications  must  be. 
While  Miss  Folger  does  her  best  to  lessen  her  sense 
of  dependence,  her  position  is  really  that  of  a  paid 
companion  who  does  not  earn  one  tenth  of  her 
salary,  and  who  would  be  homeless  and  penniless 
were  she  to  lose  her  friend  or  her  friend's  favour. 
Ralph  Folger  has  a  positive  antipathy  to  her." 
Here  John  almost  laughed.  "  He  never  hints  this 
to  his  sister,  but  Miss  Kate  is  sharp-witted  enough 
to  know  all  about  it.  She  would  like  to  be  admired 
and  loved.  So  far  as  I  know,  nobody  admires  her 


"Our  Lady  of  Peace"        93 

except  her  family,  who  toady  her.  Besides  her 
mother  and  Miss  Folger,  few  love  her.  She  is  not 
popular.  Even  Mrs.  Bowersox  says  confidentially 
of  her  husband's  niece,  'Kate —  poor,  dear  thing!  — 
means  well  enough,  but  she  has  a  way  of  stepping 
upon  folks'  corns.' " 

"  I  should  be  more  sorry  for  the  poor  dear  thing 
if  she  had  not  stamped  upon  mine  a  dozen  times 
this  afternoon,  and  with  no  provocation  whatever 
that  I  could  see,"  retorted  Myrtle,  unappeased  by 
her  brother's  charitable  discourse.  "  She  cannot  be 
beset  by  an  overmastering  temptation  to  be  disagree- 
able to  me.  I  am  not  likely  to  rob  her  of  fortune, 
friend,  —  or  lover." 


CHAPTER  IX 

SANDY  MCALPIN 

"  Then  followed  them  a  later,  madder  race, 
Who  scoff  at  gentler  arts,  and  pride  of  birth  ; 
Who  blacken  Mother  Nature's  smiling  face, 
And  rip  God's  hidden  treasures  from  the  earth." 


interior  of  the  vast  Power-house 
which  drove  the  Folger  wells  was  lit  up 
redly  on  the  side  faced  by  the  open  door 
of  the  furnace.  The  shadows,  beaten  into 
back  corners  by  the  flare,  were  darkly 
crimson  in  the  reflected  light  Looking  into  the 
mouth  of  the  furnace,  one  saw  into  the  depths  of  the 
pulsing  heart  of  the  fire.  Blue  and  white  serpents 
ran  quivering  over  and  through  it,  like  arterial  life ; 
the  continuous  roar  of  the  draught  was  as  the  mighty 
voicings  of  a  cataract. 

Right  in  front  of  the  open  door,  never  blinking  at 
the  glare  or  shrinking  from  the  heat,  Sandy  McAlpin, 
Power-man, —  gigantic  in  build,  bushy  of  hair,  and 
with  a  skin  of  the  colour  and  texture  of  saddle 
leather,  —  descanted  upon  the  glories  of  his  darling, 
the  prodigies  she  had  performed,  the  greater  deeds 
of  which  she  was  capable ;  — 

"  For,  mark  ye !  she 's  fed  by  coal  now  as  a 
regular  diet.  With  naught  but  coal  in  her  maw,  she 
runs  twenty  wells  at  once.  A  belt  for  this  one,  a 
belt  for  that  one,  a  matter  of  three  belts  for  Jumbo 
—  she's  the  big  well  that's  yielding  one  hunder' 
barrels  every  hour  of  the  day,  and  has  been  doing  it 
this  two  year.  Say  I  want  Her  to  run  thretty  wells. 
Lean  away  from  the  fire  a  bit  —  and  look  !  " 


Sandy  McAlpin  95 

He  touched  a  faucet. 

A  cyclone  of  flame  struck  the  palpitating  heart ;  the 
cataract  roar  became  deafening;  blood-red  zigzags, 
like  angry  lightning,  darted  athwart  the  fiery  mass 
and  shot  out  of  the  door. 

"  That 's  what  She  does  when  I  give  Her  a  taste  of 
the  ile  !  "  said  the  showman,  turning  the  cock  back. 
"  If  I  were  let  to  give  Her  that  all  the  time,  She  'd 
beat  the  faith  that  removes  mountains,  all  hollow. 
She  'd  tear  the  earth  out  by  the  roots.  Here 's  a 
pretty  expairimint !  " 

To  the  top  of  what  looked  like  an  upright  iron  rod 
set  in  the  floor,  were  attached  four  transverse  arms. 
At  the  touch  of  Sandy's  finger  to  a  screw,  jets  of 
bluish  flame  rushed  from  the  tip  of  each,  then  burned 
steadily  upward. 

"Natural  gas!  ginerrated  by  the  riservoirs  of  ile 
which,  in  my  opeenion,  fill  the  centre  of  this  globe 
which  fools  think  is  solid  rock  and  earth,  built  upon 
foundations  that  cannot  be  moved.  In  my  humble 
opeenion,  moreover,  there's  enough  of  this  gas"  — 
pronouncing  the  a  more  broadly  than  written  letters 
can  express  —  "if  'twas  rightly  worrked,  to  light 
every  ceety  in  Ameriky.  An'  I  'm  not  so  sure  it 
might  n't  be  carried  under  seas,  like  the  Atlantic 
cable,  and  give  light  to  all  nations.  I  've  many 
thoughts  on  these  subjicks,  seetting  here  by  the 
hour,  with  none  to  convairse  with  except  Her,  and 
meditating  upon  the  wonders  I  've  seen  with  my  own 
eyes  in  this  region  since  the  firrst  well  was  sunk,  six 
year  agone. 

"  Says  I  to  Mr.  Folger  when  he  was  here  last, 
'  We  're  but  at  the  beginning  o'  mairrvels,  sir !  The 
next  thing  you  '11  build  will  be  natural  gas  riservoir 
and  tanks  and  pipes,  sir,  if  you  '11  heed  my  words, 
in  place  of  the  clumsy  coal-gas  affair  that 's  giving 
poor  light  to  Pitvale  now.  Natural  gas-works,  sir  — 


96  Dr.  Dale 

clean  and  convenient,  and  drawing  supplies  from 
Mother  Earth  herself,  Mr.  Folger ! ' 

"And,  says  he,  'When  I  build  them  worrks,  it's 
you  that  '11  be  Power-man  and  supply-pipes  and  riser- 
voir,  all  in  one,  McAlpin.' 

"  He  's  ever  ready  with  his  joke,  Mr.  Folger  is. 
Come  weal,  come  woe,  he'll  get  his  laugh  out 
of  it." 

"  So  much  weal  has  fallen  to  his  share  that  he  can 
afford  to  laugh,"  said  Myrtle  Bell.  "  I  find  a  great 
deal  in  Pitvale  to  make  me  thoughtful." 

She  sat  upon  a  chair  which  McAlpin  had  wiped 
with  the  sleeve  of  his  shirt  before  offering  it  to  her. 
By  her  side  crouched  Beautiful,  his  muzzle  upon 
his  forepaws,  his  eyes  —  topazes  with  iridescent 
lights  in  them,  like  the  fire  in  the  opal's  heart  — 
wide  and  watchful. 

His  mistress  had  already  announced  to  her  brother 
and  Dr.  Dale  her  belief  that  Beautiful  had  been  a 
French  marquis  of  the  ancien  regime  in  a  former 
incarnation.  Such  perfection  of  breeding  and  deli- 
cate gallantry  could  have  no  meaner  origin.  The 
gravity  with  which  he  accepted  the  guardianship  of 
his  new  owner,  the  punctilious  service  he  rendered 
her,  and  his  profound  gratification  in  the  performance 
of  the  high  duty  were  in  hourly  proof  of  the 
theory. 

The  present  expedition  was  not  to  his  taste,  but 
he  bowed  to  the  inevitable.  If  it  suited  his  lady's 
humour  to  visit  The  Inferno  and  to  collogue  with  big 
men  in  corduroy  breeches  and  over-obvious  waist- 
coats, rolled  shirt-sleeves  showing  hairy  arms  be- 
grimed with  oil  and  coal-dust,  the  traditions  of  the 
marquis  incarnation  forbade  open  protest  from  the 
humblest  of  her  servants.  When  told  to  "  down 
charge  "  upon  the  greasy  stone  floor,  he  obeyed  with 
a  sigh  of  much  bewilderment.  Other  sighs,  as  meek 


Sandy  McAlpin  97 

and  profound,  heaved  his  sides  at  civil  intervals.  An 
occasional  sniff,  daintily  disdainful,  indicated  the 
sufferings  of  refined  nostrils  which  could  not  exclude 
the  odour  of  the  crude  product. 

Partially  divining  the  cause  of  his  uneasiness, 
Myrtle  dropped  her  hand  to  his  back  and  let  it  lie 
there.  She  was  "  doing "  Pitvale  systematically 
under  her  brother's  guidance.  She  was  genuinely 
interested  in  Sandy  McAlpin,  John's  unlicensed 
deacon  and  virtual  lieutenant,  in  whose  care  she  had 
been  left  for  what  remained  of  the  afternoon  while 
John  went  "  to  look  up  a  man."  Oil-soaked  flooring 
and  the  pungent  reek  that  hung  low  in  the  air  that 
windless  day,  were  matters  of  less  moment  to  her 
than  to  her  dog. 

She  stroked  him  soothingly  while  she  continued : 

"  I  find  more  to  be  sorry  for  than  to  laugh  at  in  the 
stories  told  me  hereabouts.  What  could  be  sadder, 
for  example,  than  the  experiences  of  the  Meagleys? 
My  brother  saw  Mr.  Meagley  yesterday  in  his 
back-yard,  trying  to  drill  a  hole  with  a  crowbar  in 
the  frozen  ground.  He  had  neither  hat  nor  overcoat 
on.  My  brother  went  to  the  front  door  and  told 
Mrs.  Meagley  where  he  was  and  what  he  was  doing. 
The  poor  old  man  was  very  angry  at  being  inter- 
rupted. He  was  sure  he  would  have  struck  oil  in  a 
day  or  two.  It  is  pitiful !  pitiful !  " 

"Jim!  "  said  McAlpin  to  a  stoker,  lounging  within 
earshot.  "Run  over  to  No.  13,  and  say  to  Mr. 
Finch  I  'd  like  to  have  him  take  my  place  here  for 
an  hour  or  so,  while  I  'm  showing  Miss  Bell  around." 

As  the  messenger  departed,  McAlpin  turned  to  the 
young  lady,  a  broad  grin  showing  his  teeth  and 
making  twinkling  slits  of  his  eyes. 

"  There 's  an  anecdote  I  don't  like  to  tell  in  the 
hearing  of  them  who  might  fling  it  into  the  faces  of 
the  unfortunate,  it  being  the  nature  of  the  young  to 

7 


98  Dr.  Dale 

be  eendiscreet.  Especially  when  there  's  a  good  joke 
in  the  case. 

"  Happen  you  Ve  never  heard  the  story  of  '  Meag- 
ley's  Last  Chance'  ?  No?  Then,"  —  setting  his 
legs  further  apart  and  throwing  his  weight  well  back 
upon  his  heels,  preparatory  to  the  treat  of  telling  his 
best  yarn  to  a  new  listener  — "  it  was  this  way. 
Meagley  had  dropped  every  dollar  he  could  rake  and 
scrape,  earn  or  borrow,  in  wells  sunk  in  onloikely 
places.  One  of  the  onscrupulous  sharks  that  always 
swarrm  in  waters  where  there 's  a  chance  of  finding 
gudgeons,  conveenced  the  poor  man  that  he  ought 
to  dreell  in  a  certain  hill  on  the  very  edge  of  the 
farrm  Meagley  had  the  name  of  owning,  though 
't  was  covered  from  line-fence  to  line-fence  with 
mortgages.  And  dreell  he  did !  worrking  with  his 
own  hands  all  day,  as  long  as  the  light  lasted,  and  at 
it  by  sunrise  next  morning,  and  letting  crops  go  to 
rack  and  ruin. 

"  One  summer  day,  all  on  a  suddint,  the  tools 
dropped  ten  feet!  The  hole  was  not  down  to  the 
firrst  sand,  ye  comprehend,  and  to  strrike  ile  in  such  a 
circumstance  was  nothing  short  of  a  mairacle.  He 
loosened  the  tension  on  his  rope,  and  let  down  the 
tools  grradually. 

"  There  was  no  meestake.  They  sunk  lower  and 
lower  into  a  ready-made  pit.  He  drew  them  up. 
They  were  wet  with  yellow  stuff  like  refined  ile. 

"  Poor  old  Meagley  gave  a  shout  that  brought  fifty 
men  running  up  the  hill.  There  was  the  dreepping 
tools !  and  there  was  the  hole  with  the  hollow  at  the 
bottom.  One  lang-headed  fellow —  I  '11  wager  he  was 
a  Scotchman  !  —  minded  himself  that,  if  seeing  's  be- 
lieving, tasting  and  smelling  is  knowing.  With  that, 
he  gives  a  leeck  to  the  bar,  and  yells  out, '  Holy  Moses ! 
it's  beer!'  Quicker  than  I  could  tell  it,  they  hauled 
a  sand-pump  up  the  hill  and  ran  it  down.  As  sure 


Sandy  McAlpin  99 

as  you  're  sitting  there,  it  sucked  up  beer!  Of 
good  quallity,  too !  By  this  time  there  war  a  hun- 
derd  men  on  th'  spot  and  old  Meagley  was  fair 
demented  with  joy  and  wonder. 

"  '  It 's  the  Promised  Land  ! '  he  was  bawling  at  the 
top  of  his  cracked  lungs,  a-worrking  the  pump  with 
all  his  might,  and  the  men  filling  pans  and  buckets 
with  the  stuff,  foamy  and  cool,  and  onmeestakeable 
beer. 

"  '  A  Land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey  ! '  says  he. 
'  And  corn  and  wine  !  And  why  not  beer?  ' 

"  Why  not,  indeed  !  There  was  the  beer  to  speak 
for  itself,  and  speaking  most  satisfactory,  as  all 
agreed.  The  crowd  increased  every  minute,  for  the 
worrd  run  like  lighted  petroleum  down  a  steep  grade. 

"  Presently  a  man  broke  through  the  crowd.  He 
had  run  up-hill  with  all  his  might.  He  puffed  like  an 
engine.  He  was  hot.  He  was  streaming  with  sweat. 
He  was  a  German.  He  was  mad  as  a  hatter. 

"  '  Gott  in  Himmel !  '  he  yelled  as  soon  as  he  got 
breath.  '  You  was  been  proke  mit  mein  vault !  ' 

"  He  was  a  brewer.  He  had  tunnelled  the  hill 
from  the  other  side,  as  he  had  a  right  to  do,  having 
bought  the  land,  and  built  a  beer-vault  where  his 
stuff  would  be  cool  and  safe.  The  tools  had  run 
plump  into  a  tun  of  his  best  beer  !  "  1 

He  broke  off  laugh  and  speech  as  the  opening 
door  let  in  a  rush  of  cold  air  and  a  streak  of  white 
daylight. 

"  Miss  Bell !  "  said  Dr.  Dale.  "  Behold  in  me  your 
deliverer !  I  heard  McAlpin's  voice,  and  I  am  here 
to  save  you  from  the  rest  of  his  thousand-and-one 
Pitvalian  Tales.  Your  brother  told  me  you  were 
making  a  tour  of  the  Folger  wells.  May  I  go  along, 
McAlpin?"  turning  upon  the  brawny  Scot  the  magic 
of  the  sudden,  brilliant  smile  none  could  resist.  "  I 

1  Fact. 


ioo  Dr.  Dale 

promise  not  to  contradict  a  word  you  say.  He  knows 
more  about  rock  oil  in  one  minute,  Miss  Bell,  than  I 
shall  learn  in  a  lifetime." 

When  they  were  outside  of  the  Power-house,  he 
glanced  at  Myrtle's  feet. 

"You  have  thick  shoes,  I  hope?  The  walking  is 
rough." 

"  Jack  warned  me  what  I  might  expect  in  that 
line  and  from  oil-puddles."  She  put  out  a  trim 
foot  shod  with  a  stout  boot.  "The  thickness  of 
my  soles  and  the  brevity  of  my  Alpine  skirt  rather 
shocked  Mrs.  Bowersox.  She  thought  them  sensible. 
But  '  most  people  around  here  wear  skirts  that  touch 
the  ground,  and  she  is  afraid  folks  may  talk.' " 

"  I  hope  the  talk  will  not  be  fatal,"  said  Dale, 
dryly.  "  Here  begins  the  test !  " 

Down  the  hill  six  women  paraded,  two  and  two, 
toward  them.  All  were  in  their  best  afternoon 
dresses  and  Sunday  hats.  Every  skirt  swept  the  board 
sidewalk.  Each  pair  of  hands  was  smoothly  gloved 
and  neatly  trussed  upon  the  pit  of  the  wearer's  stomach. 

Dr.  Dale  lifted  his  hat  in  taking  to  the  gutter  to 
give  the  procession  leeway;  McAlpin  followed  suit. 
Myrtle  bowed  from  the  inside  of  the  walk,  recognis- 
ing four  of  the  Meagley  sisters  and  the  faces  of  the 
other  and  younger  women  as  two  she  had  seen  at 
church.  The  Meagley  sisters  were  costumed  as 
when  they  called  upon  her  last  week.  Miss  Julia 
walked  in  purple  pomp  and  silk  attire.  Miss  Emme- 
line  was  in  dark-green  merino,  gown  and  cloak  to 
match;  Miss  Levina  had  on  a  navy-blue  "suit"  of 
the  same  material;  Miss  Harriet  sported  a  stunning 
gown  and  jacket  of  sage-green  plush,  that  swore  at 
the  rest  of  the  family  outfit,  and  more  blasphemously 
yet  at  her  opaque  skin  and  dull  yellow  hair. 

"  'Minds  a  fellow  mostly  of  a  walking  rainbow !  " 
muttered  Sandy  in  the  doctor's  ear. 


Sandy  McAlpin  101 

The  silent  six  inclined  solemn  heads  in  answer  to 
the  salutations  they  received ;  six  pairs  of  lips  re- 
mained tightly  folded ;  twelve  eyes  stared  at  the 
frankly  visible  boots  of  the  Dominie's  sister.  After 
they  had  passed  her,  each  glanced  over  her  shoulder, 
as  if  worked  by  an  electric  button,  to  make  sure  her 
sight  had  not  played  her  false. 

Happily  unconscious  of  the  ill-bred  retrospection, 
Myrtle  climbed  the  rising  ground,  on  the  highest 
point  of  which  towered  the  "  Jumbo  "  derrick.  The 
first  steel  tank  built  in  Pitvale  was  close  by,  —  a  long, 
low  structure  with  slanting  sides.  At  one  end  was  a 
flight  of  iron  steps  shining  with  the  oil  which  seemed 
to  exude  from  the  pores  of  the  solid  steel. 

McAlpin  went  up  first,  wheeling  at  the  top  and 
spreading  out  his  hands  ruefully. 

"  I  dare  n't  offer  to  help  her,  on  account  of  the 
blamed  ile  !  "  to  Dr.  Dale.  "  You  '11  see  to  her?  " 

"  He  may  catch  me  if  I  fall !  "  answered  Myrtle, 
brightly.  "  My  boot-soles  were  roughened  for  walk- 
ing on  ice  and  standing  in  other  slippery  places." 

She  was  at  the  guide's  side  as  she  said  it,  and,  for- 
getful for  the  moment  of  what  she  was  there  to  see, 
exclaimed  at  the  extent  of  the  view. 

The  amphitheatre  of  hills  of  which  the  town  was  the 
centre  arose  into  the  majesty  of  mountains  toward 
the  south,  and  in  that  direction  the  forest  of  derricks 
parted  into  a  vista  lost  in  misty  blue  peaks.  Reaches 
of  winter-wheat  were  greening  the  outlying  farm- 
lands, intersected  by  belts  of  pines  and  the  rich 
browns  and  grays  of  leafless  coppices.  In  the  lee  of 
these  and  on  the  unsunned  side  of  stone  fences,  snow- 
drifts were  leaking  away  their  life.  The  silver  ribbon 
of  the  creek  joined  another  beyond  the  meeting 
shoulders  of  the  nearer  hills,  and  the  two  formed  a 
river  winding  seaward. 

"  I  can  imagine  it  as  lovely  in  summer,"  said  the 


102  Dr.  Dale 

girl,  "  always  excepting  the  derricks  and  the  chim- 
neys. Beautiful  agrees  with  me  in  disliking  them, — 
don't  you,  old  fellow?  " 

He  had  tripped  up  the  steps  delicately,  and,  still  a- 
tiptoe,  pressed  close  to  her,  gazing  abroad  as  she 
gazed,  ears  pointed,  and  tail  in  abeyance,  his  whole 
attitude  one  of  dignified  non-committal. 

"  If  't  were  n't  for  derricks  and  chimneys,  where  'd 
the  millions  be  that's  been  made  in  this  valley?" 
retorted  the  Power-man.  "  Look  in  there !  won't 
ye?  Ain't  that  worth  all  the  landscape  'twixt  here 
and  Novy  Scotiay?" 

He  lifted  a  trap-door.  Iron  pipes  were  laid  along 
the  top  of  the  tank,  a  foot  or  more  from  the  surface, 
curving  where  the  ends  entered  the  immense  recep- 
tacle. The  opened  trap  revealed  a  thick,  yellowish- 
green  stream  flowing  from  the  mouth  of  a  pipe  into 
the  almost  brimming  tank.  It  gurgled  viscidly  in 
falling,  and  made  slow  wrinkles  upon  the  sullen  pool. 
The  odour  of  the  rising  gas  was  stifling. 

"  It  don't  smell  fine,  and  it  don't  look  pretty,"  said 
Sandy,  bending  gloatingly  over  the  aperture.  "  But 
it  might  be  molten  gold  when  you  consider  what  it 's 
worth.  D'  ye  mark  that  train  down  there  at  the  end 
of  the  valley,  with  a  hunderd  big  tanks  aboard?  By 
this  time  to-morrow,  them  tanks  '11  be  chockfull  of 
this  "  —  tapping  the  tank  with  his  boot  —  "  and  off  to 
the  refinery.  This  tank  holds  three  thousand  barrels, 
and  she's  drawn  off  through  them  pipes  and  pumped 
underground  down  to  the  station-vats  every  day. 
Say  it  clears  but  a  dollar  a  barrel  —  what  does  that 
sound  like  to  you  by  the  year,  Dr.  Dale?  " 

"  You  've  done  the  sum  often  enough  to  know,"  re- 
joined the  doctor,  good-humouredly.  "  A  good  many 
of  the  thousands  are  sinking  into  the  ground  over 
there !  "  pointing  to  a  neighbouring  eminence  where 
a  prostrate  derrick  lifted  its  forlorn  legs  into  the  air 


Sandy  McAlpin  103 

like  the  skeleton  of  a  prehistoric  monster.  "When 
a  well  goes  dry,  is  there  any  use  in  trying  to  sink  an- 
other in  the  same  place?  What  are  your  views  as  to 
re-opening  '  The  Ruth  '?  " 

Sandy  was  oracular  and  portentous. 

"  As  for  that  matter,  there  's  what  may  be  said  to 
be  all  sorts  and  condeetions  of  opeenions.  I  said  to 
Mr.  Folger  when  he  did  me  the  honour  to  ask  my 
opeenion  on  the  subjick,  '  The  Ruth  's  been  a  braw 
well  in  her  day,  sir,'  says  I.  '  I  mind  when  she 
did  her  hunderd  an  hour  without  hurrying  her. 
Then  she  fell  to  seventy-five,  and  then  to  fifty,  then 
to  fifteen — and  then  to  nothing — dry  as  a  last 
year's  bone.  Fill  her  up,  sir !  '  says  I.  '  Put  a  tomb- 
stone over  her,  for  the  sake  of  the  name,  if  you  like, 
and  for  what  she  's  done  in  the  past,  and  to  tell  how 
she  died  game,  as  you  may  say.  But  it 's  flinging 
good  money  after  bad  to  dreell  through  that  bed-rock, 
Mr.  Folger.  Since  you  've  asked  me,  I  maun  speak 
the  truth.' 

"  And,  says  he,  with  that  easy-going  laugh  of  his 
that  would  make  a  body  grin  if  he  had  the  tooth- 
ache, '  That 's  all  right,  Sandy,  me  lad,'  says  he. 
'  But  I  've  made  up  my  mind  to  keep  on  boring  till 
the  sand-pump  brings  up  tea-leaves.  Then  I  '11  know 
I  've  struck  China  —  if  not  oil.' 

"  It 's  all  the  talk  now  that  the  car-load  of  dynamite 
stored  two  miles  out  of  town  is  going  to  be  used  in 
blarsting  the  bed-rock." 

"  Dynamite  !     That 's  a  new  departure  !  " 

"  True,  sir  !  And  a  new  danger.  Ah !  ah  !  weel 
sayeth  the  Good  Book,  '  Woe  unto  them  that  make 
haste  to  be  reech ! ' 

With  one  last  fond  look  at  the  ill-smelling,  greenish- 
black  depths,  he  let  the  trap  fall. 

"  For  all  his  moralising  he  would  be  the  craziest  of 
speculators  but  for  Scotch  caution  and  John  Bell," 


Dr.  Dale 


observed  Dale,  when,  their  round  of  inspection  con- 
cluded, they  parted  with  McAlpin  at  the  Power- 
house door  and  turned  their  faces  homeward.  "  Nor 
is  he  the  only  man  by  many  whom  that  magnificent 
brother  of  yours  has  saved  from  temporal,  if  not 
from  everlasting  destruction." 

Myrtle's  eyes  sparkled. 

"He  is  a  glorious  fellow,  isn't  he?  I  used  to 
think,  with  the  rest  of  the  family,  that  he  was  throw- 
ing himself  away  in  staying  here.  I  understand  him 
better  now,  and  can  see  why  you  two  should  stand 
in  your  lot  and  do  the  work  of  heroes  in  what  Mr. 
Welsh  calls  '  this  God-forsaken  corner  of  the  world.' 
I  never  guessed,  even  from  Jack's  letters,  how  much 
of  sin  and  suffering  there  is  in  this  fast-growing  hub- 
bub of  a  place  until  yesterday.  I  spent  the  day  with 
Miss  Folger,  you  know. 

"Who,  let  me  say  here,  reminds  me  more  and 
more  of  a  '  pearl  of  purest  ray  serene,'  every  time  I 
see  her.  She  took  me  into  the  secret  of  what  she 
calls"  her  '  Inasmuch  Library.'  You  have  heard  of 
it,  so  I  am  not  betraying  her  confidence  in  speaking 
of  it. 

"  One  book  —  and  this  struck  me  as  appropriate, 
although  I  did  not  say  it  to  her  —  is  bound  in  black, 
and  lettered  '  MR.  WELSH.'  Another  has  a  red 
cover  and  has  your  name  on  it.  A  third  is  lettered 
'  MR.  BELL.'  That  is  blue.  They  are  bound  in 
heavy  morocco  and  look  like  ledgers.  Those  she 
showed  to  me  are  dated  this  year.  She  has  been 
keeping  these  books  for  three  years.  In  them  is 
registered,  in  her  own  hand,  every  case  of  distress 
and  want  reported  to  her  by  you  three.  She  knows 
every  poor  family  in  town  ;  the  number  of  children 
in  each,  their  names  and  ages  ;  the  amount  of  the 
husbands'  and  sons'  wages;  whether  men  and  women 
drink  or  are  sober;  who  belong  to  The  Bachelors' 


Sandy  McAlpin  105 

Club ;  who  attend  church  and  schools  —  in  short, 
every  particular  of  their  lives  and  characters  that 
can  be  of  use  to  her  in  her  work  of  helping  and 
uplifting. 

"Think  of  it!"  her  eyes  shining  with  generous 
dew.  "  This  woman,  who  cannot  leave  her  chair 
except  when  she  is  carried  in  men's  arms, — whose 
life,  one  might  suppose,  would  be  bounded  by  the 
walls  of  her  own  house,  —  is  really  in  touch  with 
every  household  in  Pitvale  and  the  suburbs,  ac- 
quainted with  the  griefs  of  those  who  weep,  rejoic- 
ing with  those  who  do  rejoice.  I  am  ashamed  of  my 
petty,  selfish,  commonplace  existence  when  I  com- 
pare it  with  hers.  She  has  gained  ten  talents  for 
her  one  talent.  I  have  hidden  my  five  in  a  poor 
little  napkin,  —  a  flimsy,  embroidered  doyley  !  " 

They  were  passing  the  Club-House.  As  the  last 
energetic  sentence  left  her  lips,  the  front  door  was 
flung  open  with  a  resonant  bang,  and  a  man  ran 
down  the  steps. 


CHAPTER   X 

" LENORE " 
"  The  setting  sun  and  music  at  the  close." 

REACHING     the     street,    the     impetuous 
stranger  swung  abruptly  to  the  right  and 
almost  collided  with  Dr.  Dale. 
"  Pardon  !  "  he  began,  raising  his  hat. 
His  eyes  fell  upon  Myrtle's  face,  and  he 
stopped,  stock-still,  hat  in  air,  mouth  and  eyes  wide 
open,  staring  stupidly  at  the  girl. 

The  sunset  kindled  his  red  hair  into  a  fiery  glow 
and  shed  a  radiance  over  his  freckled  face.  Every 
feature  —  from  the  slightly  uptilted  nose  to  the 
pale  gray-green  eyes  —  was  instinct  with  delighted 
astonishment. 

"  Oh-h  !  "  gasped  he  at  last. 

"  Mr.  Folger!  "  smiled  Myrtle,  offering  her  hand. 

"Yes!  Certainly!  Oh  yes !  certainly!"  speaking 
jerkily  and  seizing  the  proffered  hand  as  though  it 
were  a  safety-rope.  "  It  knocked  me  off  my  feet 
a  bit  to  see  you,  Miss  Bell.  You  don't  know  how 
glad  I  am  to  see  you.  Do  you  know  I  hunted  over 
half  of  Europe,  looking  for  you?  I  mean  for  your 
party,  you  know. 

"  Don't  stand  here  in  the  cold  !  Let  me  walk  on 
with  you  and  your  friend  —  Why,  it 's  Dale,  to  be 
sure!"  holding  out  his  left  hand  to  him.  "Beg 
pardon,  old  man  !  I  'm  a  bit  rattled,  you  see.  Half 
over  the  Continent,  upon  my  honour,  Miss  Bell! 
That  dago  porter  forgot  to  wake  me  the  morning 
you  left  Venice,  although  he  had  the  strictest  orders 
to  do  so  in  the  most  villainous  Italian.  He  had  the 


"Lenore"  107 

worst  face  I  ever  saw  —  that  porter!  When  I  got 
to  your  hotel,  I  found  you  had  been  gone  an  hour. 
The  people  didn't  know  on  what  train — or  pre- 
tended they  didn't  —  or  what  way.  I  telegraphed 
to  nine  cities ;  paid  my  red-headed  beggar  —  the 
one  I  gave  the  gondola  to,  you  know?  —  fifty  lire 
to  thrash  that  rascally  porter  who  forgot  to  wake  me, 
and  then  started  off  in  the  next  train  for  Paris. 

"  All  good  Americans  bring  up  in  Paris,  first  or 
last.  But  it  was  no  use.  Sometimes  I  came  on 
your  trail,  but  could  never  find  you.  Sort  of  Con- 
tinental Gabriel  and  Evangeline,  wasn't  it? 

" '  Both  were  so  young,  and  one  so  beautiful ! ' 

you  know.  No!  no!  that's  Byron  —  isn't  it?  It 
was  n't  what  I  meant  to  quote,  any  way. 

"  But  who  would  have  expected  to  find  you  here? 
Here  —  of  all  places !  Oh !  pardon  me  !  I  did  n't 
notice  —  " 

The  plea  was  evoked  by  Myrtle's  withdrawal  of 
the  long-suffering  hand  Ralph  Folger  had  been 
shaking  vehemently  as  they  strolled  up  the  street, 
ludicrously  unaware  of  the  awkwardness  of  the 
situation. 

"  I  am  staying  here  with  my  brother,"  began  the 
girl,  unable  to  control  her  risibles. 

"  Your  brother  !  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  old 
John  Bell — the  Dominie  —  is  your  brother!  And 
he  never  told  me  —  the  close-mouthed  traitor  !  Why, 
Bell  is  one  of  the  best  friends  I  've  got  on  earth.  I 
hope  you're  staying  here  a  long  time?  But  you'll 
find  —  " 

"  Now  please  don't  say  I  '11  find  Pitvale  a  great 
change  after  life  on  the  Continent !  "  begged  Myrtle. 
"  Every  one  says  that.  People  seem  to  think  that 
four  years  of  travel  have  made  me  unfit  to  live  in 
my  own  country." 


io8  Dr.  Dale 

"  They  talk  in  the  same  way  to  me !  "  pulling  off 
his  hat  to  bow  to  a  passing  carriage.  "  But  it  is  a 
great  change." 

"  A  very  pleasant  change.  And  nobody  has  done 
more  to  make  it  pleasant  than  Miss  Folger." 

"Ah!  you  have  met  Ruth?  Dear  girl,  Ruth! 
She  and  I  are  awfully  fond  of  one  another.  She  lets 
me  turn  the  place  upside-down,  and  have  the  dogs 
all  over  the  house.  —  How  do  you  do,  Rhynders?" 
to  a  man  in  oily  overalls,  whose  grimy  face  was  one 
grin  of  pleased  recognition.  "  Glad  to  see  you ! 
Dale,  I  congratulate  you  on  the  way  the  Club  is 
booming.  I  Ve  just  been  looking  through  it,  and  I 
find  —  " 

"  How  long  have  you  been  in  town?"  interrupted 
Dale,  as  Myrtle  surmised,  to  avert  the  impending 
compliment  to  his  management. 

Folger's  frank  heartiness  robbed  his  disjointed 
rattle  of  the  freshness  and  flippancy  that  might 
otherwise  have  flavoured  it.  The  two  hearers,  versed 
in  his  ways,  had  waited  patiently  for  his  exuberance 
to  expend  itself. 

"  I  got  in  an  hour  ago.  I  struck  New  York  yester- 
day—  from  Hamburg — and  came  on  as  soon  as 
I  could.  I  went  straight  home,  and  found  Ruth 
in  the  thick  of  a  tea-fight.  Why,  every  Meagley 
that  ever  came  down  the  pike  —  except  the  two  old 
people — was  there,  and  two  other  women  with  them. 
There  were  five  of  a  kind,  —  Kate  and  all  her 
sisters.  Five  whole  ones.  A  full  hand  of  Meagleys ! 
Think  what  a  scene  for  a  wanderer  to  come  home 
to !  They  were  all  going  to  stay  to  supper.  I 
could  n't  stand  that.  So  I  told  Ruth  I  had  business 
at  the  Club  and  would  n't  be  home  till  late.  I  went 
to  the  Club — just  to  square  myself  with  the  Record- 
ing Angel,  you  know.  I  am  always  aware  that  I 
have  a  conscience  when  I  am  dealing  with  Ruth. 


"Lenore"  109 

Behold  my  reward  !  Where  are  you  staying?  Not 
at  a  hotel,  I  hope?" 

"  No.  At  Mrs.  Bowersox's,  with  John.  We  are 
on  our  way  home.  Won't  you  — " 

"  Indeed  I  will !  with  a  heart  and  a  half!  Do  you 
know  it 's  a  Coincidence —  nothing  less?  I  was  just 
going  there  too.  I  could  n't  dine  at  home,  so  I 
thought  I'd  run  over  and  ask  Mrs.  Bowersox  to  let 
me  take  pot-luck  with  your  brother." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  square  yourself  with  the 
Recording  Angel  for  that  speech?  Or  have  you 
parted  company  with  your  conscience?  "  asked  Dale, 
looking  down  at  the  boy  with  friendly  indulgence 
in  eye  and  accent. 

The  young  fellow  laughed. 

"  I  am  acting  upon  the  principle  that  the  end 
justifies  the  means.  May  I  take  supper  with  you, 
Miss  Bell?" 

The  three  filled  the  sidewalk,  which  was  growing 
steep.  Dale  held  his  place  at  Myrtle's  side,  and 
Folger,  ranging  himself  at  the  doctor's  other  hand, 
talked  across  him.  Every  few  yards,  Ralph  fell  back 
to  let  some  one  coming  the  other  way  pass  him. 
Most  of  those  they  met  were  workmen  going  home 
to  supper,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  watch  the  greetings 
between  them  and  the  returned  traveller,  whom  they 
all  knew.  Every  hand  flew  up  to  the  owner's  hat, 
every  face  beamed ;  now  and  then  a  hat  went  off 
with  a  flourish  that  meant  "  Hurrah !  " 

"  How  does  it  feel  to  have  everybody  so  happy 
to  see  you?"  said  Myrtle,  regardless  of  the  last 
question  in  her  interest  in  the  side-scene. 

Ralph  jerked  off  his  own  hat  and  said,  "  Good- 
day  !  "  to  a  fat  Dutchwoman  who  carried  a  full 
laundress's  basket  and  dropped  a  low  courtesy  in 
spite  of  her  burden. 

"  It  feels  like  Home  !  "  he  said  simply  and  earnestly. 


no  Dr.  Dale 


A  silent  minute  passed  before  he  resumed  in  his 
former  tone,  — 

"  Honestly,  I  do  want  to  see  the  Dominie  upon 
business.  I  want  to  get  at  the  facts  in  the  case  of 
poor  Svensen's  death.  Somebody  ought  to  be  held 
up  for  that  affair.  It  was  murder,  out  and  out,  yet 
the  Italian  vagabond  was  allowed  to  get  away  with- 
out arrest." 

"  Manslaughter,  at  the  utmost,"  said  Dale,  gravely. 
"  Svensen  had  his  knife,  too.  Cut  and  thrust  mean 
no  more  in  such  circumstances  than  '  You  did  ! '  and 
'  I  did  n't ! '  Hot  blood  and  bad  whiskey  did  the 
rest." 

"  You  are  dead  right  there !  But  there  are  lots 
of  other  things  I  must  talk  over  with  Bell.  Ruth 
never  lets  her  left  hand — that's  ME,  Miss  Bell !  — 
know  what  her  right  hand  does ;  so  I  must  trust  to 
the  Dominie  to  put  me  next  to  facts  where  her  chari- 
ties are  concerned.  I  '11  find  him  at  home  this  time 
of  day,  I  suppose?  " 

"  I  'm  sure  you  will.  He  left  me  some  time  ago 
in  Sandy  McAlpin's  care  at  the  Power-house.  He 
had  a  call  to  make.  He  will  be  charmed  to  see 
you,  We  were  talking  of  you  this  morning." 

"You  hadn't  entirely  forgotten  me  then?"  The 
eager  tone  was  lost  in  a  deprecatory  laugh  as  he 
went  on:  "Confess,  Miss  Bell!  You  recollected 
me  more  by  my  hair  than  by  anything  else?  You 
need  n't  try  to  deny  it.  The  moment  I  met  you 
your  eyes  travelled  reminiscently  to  my  head.  Think 
what  it  must  be  to  a  sensitive  man  to  know  he  is 
recalled  mainly  because  his  head  is  the  only  one  of 
its  kind  in  all  this  wide,  colourless  world !  Now, 
if  it  were  only  a  rich  brown  like  yours,  or  even  an 
interesting  iron-gray  like  Dale's  !  But  no  kind  deity 
formed  my  head  for  the  delectation  of  an  aesthetic 
cult.  Only  for—" 


"Lenore"  m 

"  How  about  the  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends?" 
queried  Dale.  "  Don't  be  ungrateful.  Take  the 
goods  the  gods  provide,  and  don't  quarrel  over  the 
colour." 

Ralph  was  off  upon  another  tack. 

"  There  's  the  dear  old  farmhouse  !  "  he  ejaculated 
at  a  turn  that  changed  the  street  into  a  road. 

John  Bell  had  named  it  "Presto  Corner,"  so 
abrupt  was  the  transition  from  town  to  country. 
The  board  walk  gave  place  to  a  raised  foot-path 
with  pebbled  sides  that  kept  it  passable  in  wet 
weather;  a  lane,  leafy  in  summer  and  merry  with 
bird-songs,  led  up  to  a  gate  the  rough  stone  posts 
of  which  were  set  in  a  privet  hedge  five  feet  high, 
and  nearly  as  thick  with  the  growth  of  fifty  years. 
The  carriage  road,  entering  this,  enclosed  a  circle 
of  turf  dotted  with  old-fashioned  shrubs,  in  sweeping 
around  to  the  hospitable  doors. 

"  It  is  the  one  landmark  Oil  has  not  touched," 
pursued  Ralph,  sentimentally.  "  I  make  it  a  pious 
duty  to  come  here  whenever  I  visit  Pitvale  to  con- 
vince myself  that  I  am  one  and  the  same  with  the 
boy  who  used  to  eat  bread-and-honey  under  the 
maples  at  the  back-door.  Ah !  there  is  Bell !  " 

John  had  opened  both  halves  of  the  Dutch  door 
with  promptness  that  showed  he  had  been  on  the 
look-out.  He  greeted  the  traveller  warmly.  Myrtle 
saw  at  a  glance  the  loving  admiration  in  which  Ralph 
held  her  brother,  and  liked  her  eccentric  acquaint- 
ance better  from  that  instant. 

"  May  we  come  into  your  parlour,  Myrtle  ?  "  asked 
John,  as  they  passed  into  the  house.  "  It  is  more 
cosey  than  the  other  room,  and  my  study  is  all 
cluttered  up." 

"  Certainly !  You  need  not  ask  the  question," 
eying  him  closely. 

There  was  an  air  of  suppressed  excitement  about 


n2  Dr.  Dale 

him  that  puzzled  her,  a  sort  of  joyous  flurry  she 
felt  could  not  be  wholly  attributable  to  Ralph 
Folger's  home-coming. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Bell !  "  cried  Jeff,  emerging  from  his 
mother's  chamber  on  the  other  side  of  the  hall,  a 
wild  vision  of  pink  and  gold  and  white,  not  unlike  a 
sweet  pea  "  a-tiptoe  for  a  flight,"  —  "  how  do  you  like 
your  —  " 

"  Thomas  Jefferson !  "  thundered  John,  in  mock 
wrath. 

"  I  fought  she  'd  seen  it !  "  protested  the  culprit. 
"  I  helped  the  men  —  " 

Bell  picked  up  the  wriggling  white-robed  figure, 
deposited  it  inside  of  the  nursery  door,  and  shut  it  in, 
disregarding  the  staccato  appeals  of  the  offender. 

"  What  is  all  this  mystery?  Tell  me  !  "  commanded 
Myrtle,  her  voice  shaken  by  laughter. 

John's  answer  was  to  throw  wide  the  front  parlour- 
door. 

She  glanced  into  the  lighted  room,  and  flung  both 
arms  about  her  brother's  neck. 

"  Jack  !  Jack  !  a  piano  !  "  Her  tone  hinted  at 
what  would  have  been  hysterics  in  a  weaker  woman. 
"John  Bell !  you  are  the  dearest  brother  in  the  uni- 
verse !  The  one  thing  I  needed  to  make  me  perfectly 
happy !  " 

John  held  her  away  from  him  to  look  at  the  radiant 
face,  his  eyes  gleaming  suspiciously.  The  big  fellow 
had  the  heart  of  a  child  in  all  pertaining  to  the  little 
sister. 

"And  you  like  it?" 

"  Like  it !  What  a  beggarly  word  !  And  you 
were  lamenting  this  very  morning  that  I  could  n't 
play  for  you  at  twilight  as  I  used  to  do  in  the  dear 
old  times !  What  a  finished  hypocrite  you  are ! 
And  you  a  clergyman  !  A  monster  of  duplicity  !  " 

"  I  ordered  it  from  Philadelphia  the  day  after  you 


"Lenore"  113 

came.  I  have  n't  had  a  chance  to  make  you  a  present 
worth  talking  about  in  years  and  years.  We  arranged 
to  have  it  brought  up  from  the  station  while  you 
were  out  this  afternoon,  and  had  a  piano-tuner  here 
to  put  it  into  shape.  That 's  why  I  left  you  at  the 
Power-house.  I  sent  Dale  back  to  make  sure  you 
did  n't  get  home  before  everything  was  in  order,  the 
curtain  ready  to  go  up,  and  all  that,"  continued 
John,  with  the  enraptured  simplicity  of  a  school-boy. 
"  He  was  in  the  plot,  too  !  " 

"  '  Blessed  art  thou  among  brothers  ! '  "  sighed  the 
girl,  running  her  ringers  over  the  keys. 

Beautiful,  who  had  scampered  upstairs  upon  busi- 
ness of  his  own  as  soon  as  the  party  entered  the 
house,  now  stood  stiffly  by  the  piano,  nose  in  air, 
scrutinising  the  strange  object  with  the  air  of  a  con- 
noisseur. Myrtle  put  an  arm  about  him  and  drew 
his  cheek  to  hers. 

"  You  approve  of  it,  don't  you,  dear?  It  is  the 
only  thing  upon  earth  that  could  make  me  forget  you 
for  a  second." 

"  What  a  splendid  dog  !  "  said  Ralph,  as  Beautiful 
writhed  ecstatically  out  of  his  mistress's  embrace, 
rushed  to  a  distant  corner,  then  galloped  back. 
"  He 's  almost  the  same  colour  on  top  that  I  am. 
What  has  he  got  in  his  mouth?" 

"Only  one  of  my  slippers!"  laughed  the  girl, 
taking  the  little  shoe  from  the  jaws  that  held  it  lightly. 
"  He  must  have  run  upstairs  for  it.  He  has  original 
ideas  as  to  the  proper  way  of  welcoming  the  coming 
guest.  Whenever  I  come  home,  he  rushes  around 
and  picks  up  something  —  usually  the  thing  that 
comes  handiest  —  and  brings  it  to  me.  He,  evidently 
means  it  for  a  votive  offering." 

"  It  does  n't  matter  what  the  offering  is,  either," 
chimed  in  Bell.  "  Some  ladies  were  calling  upon  my 
sister  yesterday — very  swell  visitors,  if  you  please  — 

8 


H4  Dr.  Dale 

and  Beautiful  snatched  up  Mrs.  Bowersox's  best 
bonnet  from  the  bed  where  she  had  laid  it  a  minute 
before,  tore  downstairs  with  it,  and  laid  it  at  Miss 
Florence  Vandergrift's  feet." 

"  With  Mrs.  Bowersox  a  good  second  in  the  race?  " 
inquired  Ralph. 

"No.  She  took  it  very  kindly — after  she  found 
the  bonnet  was  n't  hurt.  She  said  she  supposed  it 
was  the  poor  dear's  dumb  way  of  being  polite." 

"  Won't  you  christen  the  piano,  Miss  Bell,  by  play- 
ing for  us?"  said  Dale.  "Remember  how  long  we 
have  been  a  piano-less  household.  It  is  your  mission 
to  bring  us  out  of  darkness  and  silence." 

The  girl  stood  for  a  moment,  irresolute.  She  was 
all  woman,  and  while  her  brother  and  his  confrere 
might  overlook  soiled  boots  and  short  cloth  skirt, 
Ralph  Folger  would  contrast  them  with  the  correct 
evening  toilettes  she  had  worn  in  Venice  and  Rome. 
There  was  not  a  taint  of  the  flirt  of  commerce  in  her 
nature,  yet,  knowing  that  Ralph  had  admired  her 
abroad,  she  wished  him  to  find  her  none  the  less 
attractive  here. 

"  If  you  will  postpone  the  ceremony  until  I  can 
lay  off  my  hat  and  change  my  shoes,"  she  said,  and 
ran  off  to  her  room. 

"  Already !  "  smiled  her  brother  when  she  reap- 
peared in  the  parlour,  where  the  three  men  stood 
on  the  hearth-rug  deep  in  chat.  "  You  must  have  a 
lightning-express  patent  for  toilettes." 

He  looked  the  admiration  the  others  felt.  Her 
attire  was  not  out  of  place  in  the  Bowersox  farm- 
house. It  would  not  have  been  shamed  by  the  full- 
dress  of  a  Philadelphia  belle.  A  soft  black  silk,  —  she 
had  a  fancy  for  fabrics  that  lent  themselves  readily 
to  pliant,  drooping  folds,  —  cut  en  Princesse,  fitted 
her  perfectly.  The  V-shaped  front  of  the  corsage 
was  filled  with  white  tulle ;  the  trained  skirt  made  her 


"Lenore"  115 

look  taller  and  more  slender  than  she  really  was ;  a 
bunch  of  blood-red  roses  took  away  the  effect  of 
plainness  from  the  rounded  bust  Her  eyes  shone 
with  happiness;  she  owed  the  richer  bloom  of  her 
complexion  to  the  long  walk  in  the  frosty  air  and 
excitement  over  her  brother's  gift. 

"  Twelve  minutes  by  my  watch !  "  she  returned 
gaily.  "  Is  n't  that  in  keeping  with  lightning-express 
rules,  — '  ten  minutes  for  refreshments '  ?  " 

She  went  directly  to  the  piano,  as  to  a  longed-for 
luxury,  sat  down  and  improvised  a  prelude,  while 
waiting  for  suggestions  from  her  audience. 

"  Do  you  recollect  the  little  starlight  thing  you  sang 
for  us  the  night  we  all  went  out  in  my  gondola," 
broke  in  Ralph,  "  the  time  I  nearly  upset  the  boat 
because  the  other  gondolas  would  go  the  wrong  way? 
Sing  it,  please !  It  will  bring  back  old  times." 

"You  mean  'Adrift'?" 

"Yes!  that 's  the  name.     Won't  you  sing  it?  " 

The  aimless  prelude  gathered  meaning;  the  idly 
struck  chords  formed  themselves  into  an  air,  and  the 
girl  sang. 

Her  voice  was  not  of  the  grand  opera  order.  It 
was  not  even  highly  cultivated.  It  was  true,  sympa- 
thetic, and  sweet  as  a  thrush's  vespers.  The  song, 
as  she  gave  it,  adapted  itself  to  the  mood  of  the  little 
red-haired  man,  who  watched  her  with  the  alert  devo- 
tion with  which  a  fox-terrier  eyes  his  owner. 

Dale  had  sunk  into  his  favourite  chair  by  the  fire. 
John  Bell,  leaning  against  the  mantel,  looked  dawn, 
with  ineffable  pride  upon  the  little  sister. 

Adrift  upon  a  starlit  sea, 

Beneath  a  starlit  sky, 
In  some  far,  old-world  Arcady, 

We  floated,  you  and  I. 
With  one  clear  song,  the  night  along, 

Of  love  that  cannot  die. 


n6  Dr.  Dale 

Forgot  was  time's  unceasing  flight ; 

Forgot  the  noisy  shore. 
Together,  'neath  the  stars'  dim  light, 

We  floated  evermore. 
And  aye  again,  our  song's  refrain 

That  same  sweet  burden  bore. 

Heart  of  my  heart!  the  years  have  flown, 

And  lost  is  Arcady ; 
But  ofttimes,  as  I  dream  alone, 

The  Past  comes  back  to  me : 
The  skies  above,  our  song  of  love, 

The  starlight,  —  and  the  Sea  ! 

Dale's  gaze  strayed  from  the  glowing  embers  to 
Ralph  Folger's  face.  In  it  he  read  —  or  thought  he 
read  —  silent  adoration  oddly  out  of  keeping  with  the 
almost  grotesque  features. 

The  sight  sent  a  queer  pang  to  the  physician's 
heart,  —  pain  that  confounded  him. 

After  all,  what  affair  was  it  of  his?  What  right  had 
he  to  care  how  Folger  looked,  or  how  Folger  felt? 
If  the  multi-millionaire  —  a  capital  little  chap  in  his 
way  —  loved  the  girl,  why  should  Egbert  Dale,  an 
obscure  country  doctor,  concern  himself  about  it? 
The  man  was  rich,  true  as  steel  to  his  friends,  be- 
nevolent, and  honest.  The  girl  was  pretty  and  poor. 
What  could  be  more  suitable? 

Having  argued  himself  into  this  attitude  of  judicial 
complacency,  Egbert  Dale  in  the  next  breath  cursed 
himself  for  a  hypocrite. 

No  affair  of  his?  Why,  it  was  all  the  world  to  him. 
And  now  he  saw,  for  the  first  time,  that  it  had  been 
his  world  ever  since  the  bitterly  cold  morning  when  a 
half-open  door  had  given  him  a  glimpse  of  Paradise. 

Moved  by  some  occult  force,  Ralph  Folger's  eyes 
met  his.  Each  man  looked  away  instantly,  yet  not 
before  each  had  guessed  the  other's  secret. 

"  That 's  very  pretty,  dear,"  said  unobservant  John, 


"Lenore"  117 

as  the  song  was  ended.  "  But  do  you  know  I'd  rather 
hear  the  old  songs  you  used  to  sing?  They  mean 
more  to  me.  '  The  Last  Rose  of  Summer,'  and 
'  Scenes  that  are  Brightest,'  and  '  Then  You  '11  Re- 
member Me,'  and  others  of  the  same  sort.  Have 
you  forgotten  them?" 

"  No,  dear !  "  returning  his  glance  with  one  as  elo- 
quent of  love  and  memory.  "  We  don't  forget  such 
songs.  You  shall  have  them  whenever  you  like. 
Shall  I  begin  now?" 

"After  supper  —  one  and  all.  If  you  are  not  too 
tired.  Ralph  and  I  have  some  matters  to  settle  that 
will  take  us  into  my  study.  We  '11  be  all  through  by 
supper-time." 

He  moved  toward  the  door. 

"  I  hope  it  will  not  disturb  your  '  matters '  if  I  strum 
on  the  piano  "  —  without  looking  around.  "  You  can 
shut  both  doors,  if  you  like." 

Dale  arose  with  the  others,  but  lingered  when  they 
had  gone. 

"  Would  you  mind  very  much  if  I  were  to  stay  here 
and  listen  while  you  are  playing?  "  he  asked,  with  dif- 
fidence foreign  to  his  usual  manner. 

She  answered  readily  and  kindly,  — 

"  If  you  won't  mind  my  being  wretchedly  out  of 
practice.  I  have  n't  touched  a  piano  in  months.  It 's 
a  godsend  to  be  able  to  play  again." 

While  she  spoke  her  fingers  were  awakening  little 
trickles  and  gushes  of  music,  as  a  brook  sings  when 
the  ice  yields  to  spring  sunshine.  She  had  not  turned 
her  head,  and  seemed  not  to  know  that  they  were 
left  to  themselves.  The  sun  had  set ;  the  winter  twi- 
light was  fading;  the  shaded  lamp  in  one  corner  of 
the  large  room  was  outshone  by  the  fire. 

Dale  seated  himself  again  in  the  chair  by  the 
hearth ;  his  pale,  classic  face  brought  out  by  the  blaze 
into  striking  relief  against  the  dark  cushions.  At  his 


n8  Dr.  Dale 

feet  slumbered  Beautiful,  pursuing  in  his  dreams  some 
ever-elusive  quarry,  as  was  shown  by  the  convulsive 
twitchings  of  his  forelegs  and  an  occasional  strangled 
growl  from  between  his  shining  white  fangs. 

Myrtle  was  in  the  shadow,  her  face  alone  dimly 
visible  in  the  half-light.  She  seemed  to  Dale  like  the 
St.  Cecilia  of  an  age-darkened  painting  by  an  old 
master. 

She  played  a  few  bars  tentatively,  as  though  trying 
to  recall  an  air. 

Dale  raised  his  head. 

"  Is  n't  that  from  the  march  in  Raffs  '  Lenore '  ?  " 

"  Why,"  in  surprised  accents,  "  &v  you  know  —  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  it,"  he  finished  lightly,  as  she  checked 
the  query.  "  You  've  no  idea  how  many  fine  chances 
a  general  practitioner  in  the  backwoods  has  of  hear- 
ing classic  music.  Seriously,  I  do  know  it,  and  I 
have  longed,  a  hundred  times,  to  hear  it  again.  Please 
go  on  with  it." 

She  obeyed  wonderingly.  While  her  touch  proved 
her  to  be  a  more  accomplished  pianist  than  vocalist, 
she  gave  to  the  music  the  same  tender,  sympathetic 
quality  that  had  marked  her  song. 

The  strains  of  the  most  moving  march  ever  written 
ebbed  and  flowed  through  the  silent  house. 

Ralph  Folger,  deep  in  the  important  business 
"matters"  across  the  hall,  heard  it,  answered  ques- 
tions at  random,  and  made  irrelevant  inquiries  that 
amazed  his  interlocutor. 

Mrs.  Bowersox,  busied  with  maternal  cares  in  the 
more  distant  nursery,  paused  in  the  all-important  task 
of  imbedding  the  ubiquitous  Thomas  Jefferson,  and 
listened. 

"  I  don't  set  much  store  by  pieces  with  no  tune  to 
them,"  she  told  Myrtle  next  day.  "  But  the  one  you 
were  playing  before  supper  last  night  made  me  feel 
queer  and  choked  up  right  here,"  indicating  her 


enore"  119 


ample  throat.  "  Kind  of  's  if  I  was  expecting  to  hear 
bad  news  —  or,"  with  a  bold  swoop  of  fancy,  "  's  if 
I  was  listening  to  a  love-story  —  or  else  a  powerful 
moving  sermon." 

Dale  sat  as  if  carved  in  marble.  His  eyes  never 
left  the  glowing  caverns  and  changing  phantasms  the 
true  fire-worshipper  traces  in  the  recesses  of  living 
wood-coals.  The  march  rolled  on,  now  hushed  and 
awed,  as  the  voice  of  one  bowed  in  the  presence  of 
the  Great  Dead ;  now  rising  into  a  wail,  as  of  many 
women  weeping  over  a  common  loss;  now  swelling 
forth,  ominous,  defiant,  re-echoing,  and  dying  away 
into  a  distant  murmur,  to  soar  again  into  a  volume 
of  sound  in  the  finale. 

As  the  closing  chords  clashed  out  and  sank,  a 
great  silence  fell  between  the  man  and  the  girl,  so 
profound  that  the  breathing  of  the  sleeping  dog,  the 
tinkle  of  dropping  ashes,  were  audible. 

"  I  should  never  play  that ! "  said  Myrtle,  at  last, 
shivering  slightly.  "  It  takes  too  much  out  of  me." 

"What  does  it  mean?"  mused  Dale,  aloud. 
"  Something  ominous  and  despairing  runs  through  it. 
It  is  the  death-song  of  a  soul  that  has  battled  like  a 
hero  against  overwhelming  odds  and  has  failed, —  one 
who  has  dared  to  defy  Destiny  itself,  and  who  has 
lost  all.  A  soul  not  without  stain,  perhaps,  but  with- 
out fear.  The  soul  of  a  MAN  !  " 

"  Still  there  is  a  note  of  hope  underlying  it,"  urged 
Myrtle,  —  "  despairing,  forlorn  hope,  if  you  will,  but 
hope !  And  there  is,  as  you  say,  defiance,  the  song 
of  the  conquered  whose  courage  is  still  unconquered, 
—  a  will  baffled,  not  crushed." 

"  Strange  that  it  should  strike  you  so  too  !  "  Dale 
turned  toward  her  and  spoke  animatedly.  "  I  never 
knew  of  any  one  else  who  felt  as  I  do  about  that 
march.  I  heard  it,  for  the  first  time,  many  years 
ago.  I  was  at  — "  He  hesitated,  then  went  on 


120  Dr.  Dale 

reluctantly,  protesting  at  heart  against  the  sentiment 
that  seemed  to  force  itself  into  words  through  no 
volition  of  his.  "  It 's  a  silly  fancy,  of  course.  I  was 
younger  then,  and  indulged  a  fancy  sometimes.  But 
the  '  Lenore '  march  seemed  to  tell  me  of  my  own 
life,  —  my  future  struggles,  my  own  fate  !  "  he  ended, 
sinking  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  low  but  clear. 
"Absurd  notion,  was  n't  it?"  the  rich  tones  grating 
like  a  file,  and  a  mirthless  laugh  rising  to  the  set  lips. 
"The  thoughts  of  youth,  you  know!  I  suppose  the 
dusk,  the  firelight,  and  the  music  brought  it  back  to 
me  and  loosened  my  tongue.  Sentimentality  is  not 
much  in  my  line." 

The  girl  had  wheeled  the  piano-stool  around,  and 
sat,  leaning  forward,  her  hands  clasped  in  her  lap,  her 
eyes,  glowing  and  mystic  in  the  gloom,  fixed  upon 
him.  She  looked  like  a  sibyl  charged  with  a  mes- 
sage she  was  constrained  to  deliver.  The  spell  of  the 
hour  and  the  music  had  wrought  in  her  a  strange 
exaltation  of  spirit. 

"  Don't  call  it  absurd  !  "  she  entreated.  "  Because 
—  because,  somehow —  I  feel  the  same  thing  !  " 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"  I  mean  that  I  feel  it  about  you,  Dr.  Dale.  That 
march  sang  itself  in  my  brain,  as  you  sat  there  by  the 
fire  the  first  morning  I  met  you.  I  could  n't  have 
told  you  why  it  came  to  my  mind  then.  I  can't  tell 
now.  It  seemed  your  motif. 

"  Don't  you  know  how,  in  the  Wagner  operas,  each 
character  is  connected  with  some  strain  of  music 
which  is  his  'motive,'  —  that  is,  typical  of  him  and 
of  his  life?" 

"  It  is  strange !  "  mused  Dale,  falling,  like  Mrytle, 
under  the  spell  of  unconventionality  bred  by  the 
hour  and  its  influences.  "  I  wonder  if  our  both  feel- 
ing so  has  any  meaning,  or  if  it  is  only  telepathy  — 
or  coincidence !  " 


^l^enore  121 

"  All  three,  perhaps,"  answered  the  girl.  "  But  that 
was  why  I  was  startled  when  you  asked  me  to  play 
it.  Does  music  bring  pictures  to  your  mind,  — living 
pictures,  more  real  when  you  have  your  eyes  shut 
and  your  mind  filled  with  music  than  anything  you 
ever  see  when  your  eyes  are  open?" 

"  Sometimes  I  think  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
things  about  music  is  that  the  same  air  can  conjure 
up  a  different  picture  for  every  one  who  hears  it 
Does  the  'Lenore'  march  bring  one  to  you?" 

"  Yes  ! "  lowly  and  emphatically.  "  Always  the 
same !  " 

"  Tell  me  what  it  is." 

His  accent  was  not  dictatorial,  but  neither  did  it 
express  the  faintest  doubt  of  her  compliance. 

She  had  turned  back  to  the  piano,  and  was  playing 
over  softly  the  opening  bars  of  the  overture.  When 
she  spoke,  her  voice  was  as  subdued  as  the  music  that 
accompanied  it,  and  fraught  with  dreamy  reminiscence, 
as  if  the  speaker  were  trying  to  recall  some  half-for- 
gotten scene,  or  were  spelling  out  shadowy  words  in 
the  dim  light. 

"  When  I  play  this,"  she  said,  "  I  seem  to  see  a 
narrow,  tortuous  Italian  street,  flanked  by  high  gray 
walls.  The  summer  sun  pours  down  on  it,  making  it 
glaringly  bright,  and  hot  in  places,  while  at  other 
turns  the  high  walls  keep  off  the  rays  and  throw  that 
part  of  the  street  into  cool  gray  gloom. 

"  Crowds  of  people  line  the  roadway.  Along  the 
middle  of  it  a  band  of  Brothers  of  the  Misericordia 
is  marching  to  a  burial.  They  wear  black  robes 
and  masked  hoods.  On  their  shoulders  they  carry  a 
bier.  The  face  of  the  man  on  the  bier  is  turned  up- 
ward toward  the  sun.  It  is  deathly  pale,  but  a  cer- 
tain radiance  seems  to  shine  from  it,  and  there  is  a 
look  of  calm  and  triumph  and  hope  on  the  worn 
features.  It  is  like  the  face  of  a  sleeping  god.  It 


122  Dr.  Dale 

bears  the  marks  of  struggle  and  of  pain.  But  both 
are  lost  in  victory,  —  the  victory  of  death. 

"  The  bearers  carry  great  torches  from  which  black 
smoke  rises  in  clouds  against  the  sun.  In  front  is 
a  line  of  buglers,  their  trumpets  screeching  and 
moaning,  and  the  sound  is  echoed  back  deafeningly 
from  the  walls  until  the  whole  street  vibrates  with  it. 
In  the  pauses  of  the  music,  as  the  cortege  winds 
through  the  gloomier  turnings  of  the  street,  the  air  is 
filled  with  the  loud  weeping  of  a  host  of  broken- 
hearted women  and  strong  men. 

"  The  wail  of  the  music  and  the  weeping  of  the 
crowd  seem  to  answer  each  other.  Everything  is 
Despair,  except  the  bright  calm  of  that  one  face  on 
the  bier. 

"There!"  she  said  in  her  usual  tone,  whirling 
around  on  the  piano-stool  and  facing  the  listener, 
"  is  that  absurd,  too?  " 

"  No  !  "  he  answered,  almost  roughly,  "  you  know 
it  is  not !  " 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  MEAGLEYS   AT  HOME 
"  A  poor,  infirm,  weak,  and  despised  old  man." 

A  QUARTETTE  of  the  Meagleys  had 
called  upon  Miss  Bell  in  state  established 
by  Pitvale  precedent,  and  embellished  ac- 
cording to  hints  of  customs  prevailing  in 
the  outer  and  larger  world,  sections  of 
which  were  brought  to  the  valley  by  the  oil-boom. 

Reminiscent  of  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  the 
visit,  Myrtle  donned  a  Parisian  costume  when  she  re- 
turned it.  Lest  the  foreign  smack  of  the  phrase 
should  mislead  the  reader  into  dazzling  visions,  we 
hasten  to  add  that  the  gown  was  of  fine  black  cloth, 
borrowing  distinction  from  cut  and  fit  and  the  bor- 
dering of  sable  upon  skirt  and  waist.  A  sealskin 
sacque  was  trimmed  with  the  same  costly  fur,  and 
there  was  a  narrow  band  of  it  about  the  round  velvet 
hat  set  lightly  upon  the  well-formed  head. 

The  way  to  the  Meagley  house  led  Myrtle  directly 
by  Dr.  Dale's  office. 

The  physician  raised  his  head  from  his  desk  just  as 
she  passed  by  on  the  other  side  of  the  street.  When 
opposite  she  glanced  at  his  windows,  as  she  would 
have  looked  over  the  way  in  the  expectation  of  catch- 
ing a  glimpse  of  her  brother.  Something  in  the 
casual  action  sent  a  tingle  of  pain  through  the  heart 
of  the  unseen  spectator. 

The  ease  of  the  girl's  bearing  was  a  continual  reve- 
lation to  him.  Most  of  the  young  women  he  knew 
—  notably  the  Meagleys  and  their  set — would  have 


124  Dr.  Dale 

walked  on  in  feigned  unconsciousness  of  the  possibil- 
ity that  he  might  be  in  his  office,  while  every  move- 
ment showed  they  were  on  exhibition,  —  a  stage  effect 
of  playing  to  the  galleries  that  deceived  nobody.  A 
lower  grade  of  damsels  would  have  loitered  purposely, 
stared  broadly,  nudged  one  another,  and  giggled  offen- 
sively, to  attract  the  notice  of  the  handsomest  man 
in  Pitvale. 

Myrtle's  swift  ingenuous  eyes  swept  the  front  of 
the  modest  building,  then  looked  forward  in  the  direc- 
tion in  which  she  was  going. 

"  It  is  nothing  to  her  whether  I  am  here  or  not !  " 
thought  Dale,  bitterly.  "  I  might  as  well  be  watching 
a  star  climb  the  sky !  " 

When  she  passed  beyond  the  field  of  observation 
covered  by  that  particular  outlook,  he  got  up,  and 
crossed  the  hall  to  the  end  window  of  his  private 
office.  From  this  he  could  see  the  lithe  black  figure 
all  the  way  up  the  street  until  she  turned  in  at  the 
Meagleys'  gate. 

The  fallen  family  lived  in  a  substantial  brick  house, 
separated  from  the  sidewalk  by  a  neat  paling  and  a 
strip  of  front-yard.  The  building  was  old-fashioned 
but  comfortable.  Myrtle  had  heard  the  history  of  the 
new  porch  over  the  front  door,  and  smiled  to  herself 
in  mounting  the  steps. 

As  everybody  in  Pitvale  knew,  the  Bowersoxes  had 
given  Mrs.  Meagley  the  house,  and  the  munificent 
salary  received  by  Kate  for  her  services  as  Miss  Fol- 
ger's  companion  was  delicately  designed  to  cover  the 
running  expenses  of  her  mother's  household  as  well 
as  to  clothe  the  middle  daughter.  When  the  roof  of 
the  old  porch  sagged  and  the  floor  trembled  under 
every  step,  Mrs.  Bowersox,  after  waiting  vainly  for 
some  weeks  in  the  hope  that  Kate  would  have  it  re- 
paired, sent  a  carpenter  to  pull  it  down  and  put  up  a 
new  one. 


The  Meagleys  at  Home     125 

Not  one  of  the  inmates  of  the  building  whose  portal 
was  barricaded  for  ten  days  by  scaffolding,  timber, 
and  workmen,  gave  the  least  sign  of  consciousness  of 
what  was  going  on.  The  shutters  of  the  front  win- 
dows had  to  be  kept  closed  lest  the  men  hammering 
upon  floor,  pillars,  and  roof  should  look  into  the  chaste 
interior;  the  family  went  in  and  out  of  the  back  door 
on  street-errands  and  to  church,  passing  the  litter  on 
the  sidewalk  with  the  same  unconcern  they  displayed 
to  the  din  of  hammer  and  saw.  The  porch  was 
finished  and  the  rubbish  cleared  away  one  Saturday 
afternoon.  On  Sunday  morning  the  front  door  was 
unlocked  and  Mrs.  Meagley,  with  her  four  daughters, 
issued  therefrom  at  church-time,  walked  composedly 
over  the  firm  flooring  and  down  the  broad  steps, 
glossy  with  new  paint,  never  once  glancing  at  the 
"  improvement."  Never  then  or  thereafter,  as 
John  Bell  assured  his  sister,  had  any  one  of  the 
party  so  far  forgotten  what  was  due  to  her  own  and 
the  family  dignity  as  to  intimate  by  word  or  look  her 
knowledge  of  the  liberty  taken  with  the  residence  they 
had  honoured  their  plain  but  worthy  kinswoman-in- 
law  by  accepting  and  occupying. 

It  was  a  representative  anecdote  which  John  en- 
joyed hugely,  but  which  he  was  discreetly  wary  in 
relating. 

Myrtle  had  time  to  think  it  over  exhaustively  while 
she  awaited  the  reply  to  her  ring.  A  third  pull  at 
the  stiff — and  she  began  to  fear,  the  useless — wire 
was  answered  by  a  slatternly  child  of  thirteen  or  four- 
teen. "Bound  girl"  was  stamped  all  over  her,  from 
frowzled  elf-locks  and  dirty  calico  frock  to  ragged 
shoes.  Second-class  smartness  marked  the  gaudy  oil- 
cloth of  the  entry-floor,  the  tapestry  Brussels  carpet 
of  the  parlour,  the  "set"  of  figured  plush  furniture, 
hard-red  in  colour,  such  as  brings  to  the  initiated  im- 
agination the  associative  odour  of  bilge-water,  dead- 


i26  Dr.  Dale 

and-gone  lodging-house  dinners,  and  the  sooty 
stuffiness  of  sleeping-cars.  Chromes  instead  of  en- 
gravings, an  ornamental  air-tight  stove  in  place  of  the 
generous  cheer  of  the  open  chimney,  and  a  profusion 
of  tidies  pinned  upon  backs  and  arms  of  chairs  and  sofa 
brought  to  the  quick-witted  observer  the  conviction 
that  the  Middle  Miss  Meagley  had  not  cared  to  re- 
cast the  family  tastes  according  to  what  she  must  have 
learned  while  living  in  the  elegant  luxury  of  her  ben- 
efactress's home. 

"  She  is  very  different  from  the  others,"  thought 
Myrtle,  and  in  a  second  thought  queried,  "  After 
all,  is  she?" 

The  chill  of  the  frozen  fixed  air  of  a  room  that  had 
not  been  ventilated  for  days  went  to  her  bones.  She 
tucked  her  hands  well  into  her  muff,  and  set  her  teeth 
to  keep  them  from  chattering. 

It  was  an  ugly  room,  —  ugly  with  the  vulgarity  of 
Nottingham  lace  curtains;  marble-topped  tables;  a 
gray  cast  of  "  Coming  to  the  Parson "  upon  an  un- 
draped  stand  between  the  two  front  windows;  on  the 
mantel  a  French  clock  under  a  bell-glass  that  emitted 
frosty  little  ticks,  and  a  clump  of  lilies  in  wax-work 
under  another  bell-glass  and  trailing  over  a  round 
looking-glass,  upon  a  ghastly  bare  slab  of  marble  set 
beneath  a  lean  mirror  in  a  gilt  frame.  The  carpet 
was  made  up  of  brick-red  roses  and  yellow  tulips, 
garlanded  in  the  most  natural  manner  possible,  upon 
an  azure  ground. 

There  was  no  door  of  communication  with  the 
adjoining  room,  but  Myrtle  caught  the  sound  of 
scurrying  feet,  the  sharp  sibilations  of  command  and 
reply,  the  trundling  of  furniture,  —  the  indubitable 
indications  of  clearing  up  and  tucking  away  incident 
upon  getting  ready  for  company. 

At  last  —  an  at  last  fifteen  minutes  long  —  a  door 
opened  and  shut,  footsteps  and  a  voice  were  heard  in 
the  passage. 


"The  Meagleys  at  Home     127 

Carolling  as  artlessly  as  a  blackbird  in  spring-time, 
Miss  Harriet  Meagley,  in  a  grass-green  delaine  and 
scarlet  neck-ribbon,  strayed  casually  into  the  Arctic 
zone  of  her  well-appointed  abode,  and  came  to  a  tragic 
dead  stop  at  sight  of  the  figure  stranded  upon  the  red- 
plush  sofa. 

"  Miss  B-e-1-1-1 !  "  If  the  cry  and  clasping  hands 
had  been  less  artistic,  the  discount  upon  her  amaze- 
ment would  have  been  lighter.  "  When  did  you 
come?  How  long  have  you  been  here?  This  is 
some  more  of  that  wretched  girl's  work,  I  am  sure. 
And  never  to  let  us  know  that  you  were  here !  I 
declare  she  has  let  the  fire  go  out,  too !  "  laying  a 
tentative  palm  upon  the  shining  stove.  "  I  do  hope 
you  have  not  taken  cold !  Won't  you  come  right 
into  the  sitting-room?  Mother  and  the  girls  will  be 
charmed  to  see  you.  You  '11  excuse  all  want  of  cere- 
mony, I  hope  ?  I  positively  can't  leave  you  to  freeze  !  " 

In  passing  through  the  hall,  she  snatched  at  a  card 
lying  on  the  table ;  her  tongue  clicked  smartly  against 
the  roof  of  her  mouth. 

"  To  think  of  that  miserable  creature  leaving  your 
card  there,  instead  of  bringing  it  in  to  us?  That 's  the 
trouble  of  young  servants  !  " 

The  shifting  of  the  scene  to  the  sitting-room  intro- 
duced the  rest  of  the  cast,  en  tableau, 

Mrs.  Meagley  was  darning  stockings ;  Miss  Julia 
was  crocheting  a  purse ;  Miss  Levina  was  hemstitch- 
ing a  ruffle ;  Miss  Emmeline  was  reading  aloud  such 
an  interesting  story  in  The  Ladies'  Home  Journal 'that 
none  of  them  noticed  the  opening  of  the  door  or 
looked  around  until  Miss  Harriet  spoke,  — 

"  Mother  dear !  Here  is  Miss  Bell !  Do  you  know, 
that  wretched  Nelly,"  etc.,  etc.,  et  cetera. 

Amid  the  clamour  of  exclamations,  apologies, 
hopes  that  she  had  taken  no  harm  from  exposure, 
and  objurgations  of  the  small  sinner  who  had  let  her 


128  Dr.  Dale 

in  for  it  all,  Myrtle  kept  her  head  cool  enough  to 
reflect  amusedly  that  these  people  had  probably 
never  been  to  the  theatre  half-a-dozen  times  in  their 
united  lives. 

Mrs.  Meagley's  thin  whine  separated  itself  from  the 
tangle  presently.  She  was  also  the  first  to  rally 
from  her  surprise  sufficiently  to  be  able  to  resume 
her  work.  The  skilled  needle  was  diving  under  and 
over  the  knitted  meshes  while  she  prosed,  her  glasses 
so  near  the  tip  of  her  nose  that  Myrtle  forced  her 
eyes  away  from  watching  for  their  fall.  She  knew 
she  should  scream  or  laugh  when  this  happened,  so 
unnerved  was  she  by  cold  and  suppressed  fun.  And 
here  and  now,  if  ever,  she  must  be  upon  her  good 
behaviour. 

"  Miss  Bell  can't  hardly  understand,  I  presume, 
how  impossible  it  is  to  procure  competent  help  in  this 
benighted  place,"  said  the  mother  of  five,  in  her  best 
English,  the  hankering  after  polysyllables,  common 
to  the  pretentious  illiterate,  strong  within  her.  "  In 
the  days  of  our  prosperity  we  was  enabled  to  com- 
mand a  superior  quality  of  domestic  assistance.  In 
our  reversed  condition  we  must  content  ourselves 
with  what  Providence  assignates  to  us." 

Even  the  mongrel  word  did  not  move  the  listener 
to  a  smile.  In  a  rush  of  thought  she  compared  the 
present  with  the  past  of  the  fallen  household,  and  an 
excess  of  toleration  got  hold  of  her. 

"  Please  don't  apologize  for  the  little  mistake  that 
has  brought  me  into  your  pleasant  living-room,"  she 
said,  gently  winning  in  look  and  manner.  "  We  shall 
get  acquainted  ever  so  much  sooner  here  than  in 
the  drawing-room,"  her  eyes  wandering  to  the  sunny 
windows,  the  sills  of  which  were  filled  with  potted 
plants,  and  ignoring  the  sewing-machine,  the  basket 
of  work,  covered  with  a  towel,  standing  beside  it,  the 
dingy  stove,  and  dingier  furniture.  "  And  won't  you 


The  Meagleys  at  Home     129 

please  me  by  going  on  with  your  pretty  fancy-work?  " 
to  Julia  and  Levina.  "Mrs.  Bowersox  was  showing 
me  some  exquisite  work  one  of  you  —  I  think  she 
said  it  was  Miss  Levina —  did  upon  a  frock  Jeff  has 
outgrown.  She  keeps  it  laid  away  in  lavender  in  her 
drawer.  Jeff  says  she  is  keeping  it  for  his  little  sister." 

Her  laugh  was  not  echoed.  Miss  Emmeline  looked 
down  upon  the  paper  in  her  lap,  and  rubbed  the  backs 
of  her  bony  hands  together  bashfully,  as  if  the  circu- 
lation were  suddenly  stopped.  Miss  Harriet,  guile- 
less, uncertain  as  to  the  visitor's  meaning,  looked  the 
perplexity  she  did  not  articulate.  Miss  Levina 
blushed  muddily.  Like  her  sister  Kate,  she  prided 
herself  upon  retaining  the  power  to  blush  upon 
seasonable  occasions.  Miss  Julia  glanced  timidly  at 
her  mother. 

That  exemplary  matron  arose  to  the  relief  of  her 
innocent  offspring.  Stern  as  Judith,  relentless  as 
Jael,  she  jabbed  the  long  needle  into  the  heel  of 
the  sock  distended  by  her  darning-egg. 

"  Sarepty  Bowersox  has  lost  what  modesty  she  ever 
possessed,  residing  so  long  —  and,  as  one  might  say, 
unprotected  —  in  that  big  house  with  all  those  men, 
and  others  coming  and  going  continual,  and  no  female 
present  to  restrain  the  licentiousness  of  her  conversa- 
tion. I  have  with  my  very  own  ears  "  —  the  empha- 
sis conveying  the  impression  that  she  hired  another 
pair  for  every-day  use  —  "  heard  her  laugh  at  what 
any  delicate-minded  individual,  especially  of  the 
female  sex,  would  blush  to  have  her  child  say.  And 
I  will  say,  as  I  have  said  times  and  places  without 
number,  to  my  husband's  sister's  face,  that  it  is  not 
decent  for  her  to  allow  that  boy  —  spoiled  as  he  is  — 
to  make  allusions  like  the  allusion  you  have  just 
alluded  to,  Miss  Bell.  As  I  have  told  my  girls,  oncet 
and  again,  and  they  '11  bear  me  witness,  I  'm  that  ner- 
vous when  either  Mr.  Bell  or  Dr.  Dale  are  present, 

9 


130  Dr.  Dale 

and  that  child  begins  to  run  on,  that  I  don't  know 
which  way  to  look.  It 's  noways  proper,  from  any 
p'int  of  view.  I  can't  sleep  o'  nights  for  thinking 
what 's  said  and  allowed  for  to  be  said  when  there  's 
nobody  there  to  act  as  a  constraint  upon  them  two. 
As  I  said  to  my  brother  Jo'chim,  years  ago,  —  't  was 
just  after  Dr.  Dale  come,  —  '  If  you  've  got  one  iotom 
of  infl'ence  with  that  wife  o'  yourn,  you  '11  insist  upon 
her  having  one  of  my  girls  to  keep  her  company. 
There  's  Leviny  that's  got  "  Sarepty  "  for  her  middle 
name,'  says  I,  '  out  of  compliment  to  her,  and  it 's 
little  has  ever  come  of  it,'  says  I.  But  there  !  Jo'chim 
Bowersox  dassent  call  his  soul  his  own  in  that  house, 
three  times  as  big  as  they  need,  —  and  we  a-squeezed 
into  this  rat-hole,  as  you  may  say !  " 

The  colour  had  not  left  Miss  Levina's  pure  but  ex- 
perienced cheek,  inured  to  the  inevitable  aggregate 
of  blushes  attendant  upon  a  thirty  years'  pilgrimage 
in  the  Vale  of  Spinsterhood.  But  she  espied  a  glint 
in  Miss  Bell's  eyes  that  was  not  all  amusement  or 
kindliness ;  a  sparkle,  as  when  flint  meets  steel,  shot 
across  the  soft  brown,  usually  so  clear. 

"  Ma ! "  interposed  the  more  politic  daughter. 
"  You  're  disposed  to  be  hard  upon  Aunt  Sarepta. 
People  that  talk  as  much  as  she  does  must  say  out- 
landish things  sometimes.  Of  course  it's  rather 
shocking,  the  way  she  talks  about  not  being  able  to 
realise  Jeff,  and  lets  him  run  on  about  —  "  the  blush 
was  back  with  reinforcements  —  "  about  remote  im- 
probabilities, —  but  Miss  Bell  would  n't  notice  it  as 
much  as  we  do,  after  living  abroad  so  long.  The 
English  don't  mind  what  they  say,  I  Ve  heard,  and 
that  their  conversation  sounds  real  coarse  to  refined 
American  ears." 

"  It 's  all  of  a  piece  with  their  indecent  short  skirts 
and  big  feet  and  thick  shoes,"  opined  Miss  Harriet. 

The  spark  had  lit  a  steady  glow  by  now.     Our 


The  Meagleys  at  Home     131 

heroine  was  having  her  first  experience  of  association 
upon  terms  of  enforced  equality  with  people  innately 
vulgar,  yet  presuming,  —  people  whom  circumstances 
forbade  her  to  treat  as  their  insolence  deserved. 

Incidentally,  and  not  irrelevantly,  she  registered  a 
vow,  before  she  spoke,  that  nothing  should  coerce 
her  into  marrying  a  politician,  or  beguile  her  into 
marrying  a  clergyman.  Altogether  relevantly  she 
pitied  her  brother's  wife  in  posse, 

"  I  am  not  a  fair  judge,  perhaps,  since  my  English 
friends  belong  to  the  better  classes  of  society,"  she 
rejoined,  with  admirable  self-possession.  "  I  have 
never  met  people  more  refined  in  word  and  in  deed 
than  they.  I  must  have  expressed  myself  very  awk- 
wardly if  I  gave  you  the  idea  that  Mrs.  Bowersox  is 
ever  indelicate  in  any  way.  I  am  ashamed  to  use  the 
word  in  connection  with  her.  As  to  dear  little  Jeff,  I 
confess  that  I  am  at  a  loss  to  see  what  was  wrong  in 
the  saying  I  repeated." 

"  Everything  depends  upon  the  way  a  person  is 
raised."  Judith's  frown  was  a  furrow.  Jael  was  a 
rock.  "  In  our  properous  days,  when  the  thought  of 
poverty  never  entered  our  thoughts,  I  paid  much  atten- 
tion to  the  forming  of  my  children's  moral  manners. 
They  was  trained  to  avoid  the  appearances  of  evil,  and 
to  put  impure  thoughts  far  behind  them  and  to  set 
watches  before  the  door  of  their  lips.  My  sainted 
mother  was  one  of  the  salts  of  the  earth. 

"  Poor  mother !  little  did  she  dream  what  reverses 
was  in  store  for  me !  She  always  used  to  say  to  us, 
her  daughters  —  there  being  five  of  us  as  there  's  five 
of  mine,  and  never  a  son  to  my  name,  without  it  was 
a  still-borner,  which  is  n't  supposed  to  count  in  the 
family  Bible.  It  does  seem,  sometimes,  's  if  Provi- 
dence entertained  a  gredge  against  some  of  His 
children,  while  others  —  no  better,  not  to  say  not 
so  good  —  flourishes  like  green  bay-trees. 


132  Dr.  Dale 

"  My  sainted  mother — Julia  is  called  after  her  — 
she  used  to  lay  down  law  and  gospel  to  us  —  " 

"  He  won't  stay  in  the  kitchen,  Mis'  Meagley  !  " 

The  frightened  pipe  of  the  bound  girl,  not  unlike  the 
squeal  of  a  hurt  rabbit,  drew  all  eyes  to  the  door. 

The  father  of  the  five  brotherless  girls  shambled 
past  his  foiled  guardian,  and  made  for  the  stove  —  a 
big  Stanley,  and  red-hot,  —  chafing  his  gnarled 
fingers,  and  drawing  wheezing  breaths  between  his 
few  remaining  teeth. 

"The  fire's  'most  out  there,  Lizy  Ann,"  he  said 
huskily.  "  And  you  know  Dr.  Dale  told  you,  last  time 
he  was  here,  that  I  mus'  be  kep'  warm,  whatever  hap- 
pened. The  cold  starts  up  my  rheumatiz  lively.  — 
How  do  ye  do,  ma'am?" 

Seeing  the  stranger  at  this  point  of  his  complaint, 
he  shuffled  toward  her,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Mr.  Meagley,  Miss  Bell !  Miss  Bell,  Mr. 
Meagley !  "  said  his  wife,  after  the  manner  of  her 
youth,  when  people  took  pains  to  make  strangers 
acquainted  with  one  another's  names.  "  He 's  an 
invaleed,  and  we  're  obleeged  to  take  the  uttermost 
care  of  him,  on  account  of  the  rheumatics  being 
liable  to  mount  to  his  head.  When  it  does  mount 
he  's  very  flighty.  But  harmless  !  quite  harmless  ! 
Pa !  you  'd  better  set  down  in  the  corner  away  from 
the  draughts,  if  you  will  stay  in  here." 

But  Pa's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  face  smiling 
gracious  warmth  into  his  numbed  heart.  He  held  the 
gray-gloved  hand  in  both  of  his  —  wrinkled,  veinous, 
and  trembling  —  working  it  up  and  down  with  the 
action  but  not  the  regularity  of  a  pump-handle, 
mumbling  and  mouthing  his  greetings  meanwhile. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  ma'am !  glad  to  see  you  in  my 
house  !  Know  your  brother,  ma'am.  In  p'int  of  fact, 
I  'm  a  member  in  good  'n'  reg'lar  standin'  in  his 
church  —  the  old  Oak  Hill  church.  Only,  as  my 


"The  Meagleys  at  Home     133 

wife  says,  I  ain't  allowed  to  attend  in  the  winter,  all  on 
account  o'  my  rheumatiz.  But  she 's  all  off  'bout  that 
head-business.  It's  the  j'ints  and  the  back  what 
suffers,  an"  there  's  danger  of  its  flyin'  to  the  heart, 
if  I  'm  not  took  good  care  of,  or  if  I  'm  contradicted. 

"  Head  's  all  right !  You  ask  Dominie  Bell  what 
he  thinks  of  Timothy  Meagley's  headpiece.  Similar, 
ask  Dr.  Dale.  What  you  say,  Lizy  Ann  ?  '  Set 
in  that  chimbly  cornder?'  Not  if  I  know  it!  I'm 
a-go'n'  to  keep  Miss  Bell's  comp'ny  for  a  few  minutes, 
if  she  '11  let  me." 

He  made  a  long,  backward  arm  to  drag  up  a  chair, 
and  eased  his  creaking  bones  down  into  it. 

"  I  shall  be  happy  to  talk  with  you  for  a  little 
while,"  said  Myrtle,  cordially  and  respectfully.  "  I 
must  be  going  home  soon.  The  night  comes  early 
now." 

"  And  it  is  n't  considered  the  proper  thing  for  a 
young  lady  to  be  out  alone  after  sundown  in  Pitvale," 
observed  Miss  Julia,  eager  to  clip  the  thread  of  her 
father's  talk.  "  There  are  so  many  doubtful  characters 
abroad  in  the  evening,  now  that  the  town  is  growing 
so." 

The  imbecile  was  chewing  the  mysterious  cud  of 
senility ;  his  gaze  still  drinking  in  the  graciousness 
of  the  fair  young  face.  While  he  munched,  he  winked 
slowly,  like  a  drowsy  cat  in  the  firelight.  There  were 
livid,  pendulous  pockets  under  his  eyes.  He  polished 
the  knobby  knuckles  of  his  left  hand  with  the  palm 
of  the  right,  working  them  round  and  round  with  a 
grinding  motion.  His  shabby  clothes  were  too  big 
for  the  thin  body ;  his  bald  head  and  scraggy  neck 
projected  from  between  the  bent  shoulders  like  a 
turtle's. 

Myrtle  fought  down  the  growing  sickness  of  heart 
and  body. 

"  You  are  very  wise  to  stay  in  the  house  and  keep 


134  Dr.  Dale 

warm  in  this  bleak  weather,"  trying  to  speak  as 
to  a  normal  old  man.  "  I  did  not  expect  to  find  the 
winters  in  Pennsylvania  so  severe." 

It  was  harder  not  to  shrink  from  the  crooked 
yellow  finger  reached  out  to  stroke  her  muff. 

"  Pa  !  "  ordered  his  wife,  tartly.  "  Quit  that !  Miss 
Bell  will  think  you  have  n't  no  manners  whats'ever  !  " 

He  desisted  chucklingly. 

"  I  'm  an  old  man,  ma'am  !  an  old  man !  and  you 
must  n't  mind  my  ways.  A  pre-w«/-urely  old  man,  I 
may  say.  Ten  year  ago  I  was  a  well-off  farmer,  livin' 
on  my  own  land.  In  the  house  my  gran'ther  built. 
Not  so  good  a  house  as  this  — "  the  bleared  eyes 
sweeping  the  room. 

"  Pa !  Pa ! "  this  from  three  daughters  in  one  breath. 
"  How  you  do  run  on !  It  was  a  great  deal  larger 
and  handsomer  than  this  ever  thotight  of  being !  " 

"  So  you  women  say !  so  you  women  say !  "  a 
cunning  leer  creasing  a  face  like  rumpled  parchment 
in  hue  and  grain,  "/say  it  was  a  decent  Pennsylvany 
farmhouse,  no  better  than  my  neighbours  lived  in. 
It's  down  now.  So  am  I.  Water  and  ile  together 
—  they  done  it  all !  But,"  poking  the  muff  im- 
pressively with  two  dreadful  fingers,  "  if  I  could 
lay  these  hands  onto  ten  thousand  dollars,  I  'd  be  a 
richer  man  inside  of  two  months  than  both  the  Folgers 
put  together.  You  don't  happen  to  know  where  I 
could  put  my  hand  onto  ten  thousand  dollars,  do 
you?" 

"  I  am  afraid  not !  "  returned  Myrtle,  regretfully, 
civil  to  the  last. 

Unable  to  bear  the  scene  any  longer,  and  sincerely 
pitying  the  distress  of  wife  and  daughters,  she  arose 
to  take  her  leave. 

"  Please  don't  go !  " 

Without  making  her  intention  too  apparent  she 
stepped  back  beyond  the  reach  of  the  hand  that 


The  Meagleys  at  Home     135 

clutched  at  her  sleeve.  The  quavering  tones  thinned 
into  a  whimper, — 

"  I  won't  say  another  word  about  ile  if  you  '11  stay. 
They'll  scold  me  awful,  soon's  you're  gone.  Dr. 
Dale,  he  told  me  t'  other  day,  I  'd  better  not  let  my 
thoughts  run  too  much  to  ile. 

"  But,"  sinking  his  voice  to  a  squeaking  whisper, 
and  approaching  the  cunning  old  face  nearer  to  hers, 
"  I  '11  be  a  rich  man  yet !  See  if  I  ain't !  I  asked  the 
doctor  if  he  could  n't  lend  me  the  ten  thousand. 
Said  he  could  n't  on  such  short  notice.  I  knowed, 
from  the  way  he  smiled,  what  he  meant.  He 's  makin' 
money,  the  doctor  is.  And  I  '11  get  that  money 
soon  's  he  marries  my  daughter  Kate,  what 's  livin' 
now  off  of  rich  Ruth  Folger,  and  — " 

"  PA  ! " 

The  mixed  wail  and  screech  drowned  the  rest  of 
the  revelation.  The  wife  from  one  side,  two 
daughters  from  the  other,  laid  violent  hands  upon 
him,  and  fairly  hauled  him  out  of  his  chair  and  to 
his  tottering  feet.  Mrs.  Meagley's  company  manners 
and  dictionary  English  went  to  pieces  in  the  tempest 
of  righteous  wrath. 

"  You  ain't  fatten  to  stay  with  decent  folks !  "  she 
protested,  pushing  him  through  the  door  held  open 
by  pale  and  tearful  Levina,  and  disappearing  with 
him  into  the  kitchen. 

Miss  Harriet  made  a  forlorn  effort  to  settle  her 
ruffled  plumage. 

"  Pa  is  subject  to  these  queer  attacks  in  cold 
weather,"  she  began  falteringly. 

She  collapsed  miserably  at  sight  of  the  genuine 
womanly  compassion  in  Myrtle's  eyes.  Throwing 
herself  into  a  chair,  the  humbled  daughter  buried  her 
face  in  her  hands  and  cried  passionately. 

Miss  Julia  scolded  her  for  "  giving  way ;  "  Miss 
Emmeline  wrung  her  hands  helplessly ;  Miss  Levina 


136  Dr.  Dale 

poured  out  a  glass  of  water  and  held  it  ungently  to 
the  weeper's  lips. 

"It's  nothing  but  nervousness!"  she  explained 
perfunctorily,  to  the  pitying  visitor.  "  She 's  often 
so!  It's  too  bad  we  should  all  have  disgraced  our- 
selves before  you  to-day.  I  know  just  what  Aunt 
Sarepta  will  say.  And  as  for  Kate !  " 

A  despairing  gesture  finished  the  sentence. 

Myrtle  was  leaning  over  hysterical  Harriet,  trying 
to  soothe  her  by  gentle  entreaty  and  soothing  words. 
She  lifted  her  serious  face ;  her  accents  and  her  eyes 
were  full  of  tender  sympathy. 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  about  that!  I  shall  never 
speak  to  anybody  of  what  has  given  you  so  much 
annoyance.  It  was  nothing,  after  all.  We  know 
that  invalids  must  be  humoured.  Nobody  attaches 
any  importance  to  their  talk.  Please  say  this  to 
Mrs.  Meagley,  and  that  I  left  my  regards  for  her. 
Good-afternoon !  I  shall  hope  to  see  you  again 
soon." 

A  dog  leaped  so  high  in  the  air  that  all  four  feet 
left  the  porch-floor  as  Miss  Levina  let  the  caller  out 
of  the  front  door.  Forgetful  of  everything  else  in 
the  joyful  surprise  of  meeting  a  true,  honest  creature 
who  meant  all  he  expressed,  Myrtle  caught  his  fore- 
paws  and  carried  them  to  her  shoulders,  laying  her 
cheek  upon  the  white  star  between  the  loving  eyes. 

"  O  Beautiful !  my  darling !  They  promised  that 
you  should  not  follow  me !  But  I  am  glad  you  got 
away  from  them  !  " 

At  Miss  Levina's  call,  her  sisters  ran  into  the  front 
parlour,  and  huddled  together  at  a  window  to  watch 
mistress  and  dog  through  the  tawdry  sheerness  of  the 
Nottingham  lace  curtains. 

"  Such  a  fuss  as  she  made  over  him !  "  repeated 
Levina.  "  Dr.  Dale  must  have  given  him  to  her, 
then  !  Kate  told  me  to  find  out  if  he  had." 


The  Meagleys  at  Home     137 

"  She  holds  herself  too  straight  to  be  graceful," 
criticised  Julia,  who  affected  the  obsolete  "  Grecian 
bend  "  in  her  own  carriage. 

"  She  carries  her  head  up,  and  steps  out  exactly 
like  a  man,"  was  Miss  Levina's  stricture.  "  It  may  be 
style,  and  foreign,  but  it  ain't  modest  Pennsylvania 
ways." 

Miss  Harriet,  her  face  blubbered  with  crying,  had 
a  weightier  matter  in  mind. 

"What  we've  got  to  prepare  for  is  the  rumpus 
Kate  will  kick  up  when  she  hears  what  Pa  said." 

"  Maybe  she  won't  hear  it.  She  promised  not  to 
tell,"  suggested  an  optimistic  sister. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Emmeline  Meagley  !  Her  brother 
will  hear  it  all  before  he  eats  his  supper.  Dr.  Dale 
will  have  it  before  he  goes  to  bed.  That  vile  tease  of 
a  Ralph  Folger  will  get  hold  of  it  to-morrow.  You 
may  be  sure  he  '11  work  it  for  all  it 's  worth.  If  you 
want  to  make  anything  out  of  Kate  in  the  next  year, 
you  got  to  be  quick  about  it." 

Four  gloomy  faces  neared  one  another  over  the 
Stanley  stove,  after  the  distrusted  stranger  and  her 
dog  were  out  of  sight.  Four  noses  were  blued  by 
the  frozen  fixed  air  of  the  best  room ;  four  pairs  of 
eyes  were  troubled  by  the  same  dreads. 

Off  company  duty,  they  discarded  frills  of  senti- 
ment and  language. 

"  Kate  had  better  be  on  the  look-out  for  herself," 
said  Julia.  "  If  that  girl  sets  her  cap  at  Dale,  he's  a 
gone  case.  If  ever  I  saw  a  born  flirt,  she 's  one." 


CHAPTER  XII 

"  THE  SOUL  OF  A    MAN  " 

"  Though  I  never  may  reach  the  glowing  rose 
That  clambers  atop  the  rough-cast  wall, 

Yet  even  for  me  a  warm  south  wind  blows, 
And  petals  all  flushing  with  passion  throws, 

And  I  kiss  them  as  they  fall. 

Each  hour  I  spend  where  your  dear  eyes  shine 

Some  leaf  of  the  flower  of  Love  is  mine." 

RALPH    FOLGER'S   return    and   his    ex- 
pressed intention  of  staying  at  home  for  a 
month,  at  least,  made  a  stir  in  every  grade 
of  Pitvale  society. 
Speculators  and  operators  were  awake  to 
the   lively    possibilities  of  what  he   might  do  next. 
That  he  would  do  something,  and  that  his  "  nexts  " 
were  sure  to  be  sensational,  was  an  axiom  in  business 
circles.     Tradespeople   furbished   up  their   premises 
to  court  the  commendation   of  the  townsman  who 
could  buy  out  both  sides  of  Main  Street  and  every 
crossway  without  feeling  the   outlay,  and  who  was 
known  to  have  a  natural   interest  in  the  rapid  up- 
springing  of  the  place  he  had  done  so  much  to  make. 
Tenants  waited   upon   him,   singly  and  in    family 
groups,  to  ask  for  repairs  and  privileges. 

As  Sandy  McAlpin  told  John  Bell,  "  There  was  n't 
a  mule  in  town  that  was  n't  better  fed  and  cleaned 
because  the  head  boss  was  around,  with  both  eyes 
open." 

The  best  circles  —  for  such  there  were  in  Pitvale,  a 
segregation  of  the  families  of  resident  well-owners, 
real-estate  dealers,  four  or  five  doctors,  and  as  many 
lawyers,  with  half-a-dozen  gentlemanly  managers  of 
wells  and  agents  of  lands  belonging  to  Eastern 


"The  Soul  of  a  Man"       139 

capitalists  —  claimed  the  returned  native  phenome- 
non for  their  own.  The  social  pool  formed  by  these 
elements  was  moved  to  its  depths  by  functions  in  his 
honour. 

The  hall-mark  of  Pitvalian  gentility  was  the  late 
dinner,  whereat  decollete  gowns  and  swallow-tail  coats 
carried  out  the  scheme  of  high  life ;  where  blue  points 
and  salmon,  entries  and  game,  met  together,  sauterne 
and  claret,  sherry  and  champagne  kissed  each  other. 
In  ten  houses  where  butlers  were  kept  (or  hired  by 
the  night)  that  number  of  "  course-dinners "  was 
given  in  a  fortnight  to  the  citizen  regained ;  six 
receptions  were  enlivened  by  his  sorrel-red  poll  and 
conversational  pyrotechnics. 

At  the  end  of  that  time  Myrtle  Bell  remarked  to 
her  brother  in  Ralph's  hearing  that  she  might  as  well 
be  spending  the  winter  in  New  York  as  in  this  so- 
called  country-town.  Society  in  one  place  was  very 
much  the  same  as  in  the  other  with  a  few  unpictur- 
esque  variations.  The  concert  given  by  the  Bachelors' 
Club  Band  in  the  Club  music-room  for  the  benefit  of 
the  families  of  men  killed  in  an  explosion  of  gas  in  a 
pump-house,  was  a  refreshing  novelty.  Her  poor 
people  in  Pig's  Alley  and  Bankrupts'  Lane  were  far 
more  entertaining  than  the  regulation  diner-out  in 
society  uniform. 

Ralph,  who  was  pretending  to  talk  with  Dr.  Dale 
at  the  other  side  of  the  fireplace,  dipped  in  his  oar 
here,  — 

"  I  thought  you  enjoyed  people !  I  do !  All  sorts, 
all  classes,  all  colours  of  my  fellow-creatures.  When 
they  don't  get  a  rise  out  of  me,  I  get  one  out  of 
them." 

"  That  is  fair  play,  if  you  make  people  and  puppets 
interchangeable  terms,  and  cut  and  thrust  the  essence 
of  neighbourly  duty,"  retorted  the  girl.  "  Sometimes 
you  talk  for  the  sake  of  seeing  what  Mr.  Ralph  Fol- 


140  Dr.  Dale 

ger  can  make  of  a  bad  cause.  This  is  one  of  the 
times." 

Bell  and  Dale  applauded  softly. 

John  added,  "  Hear  !  hear  !  " 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  Myrtle  had 
called  upon  the  Meagleys.  He  guessed,  from  her 
reticence  as  to  the  particulars  of  the  visit,  that  there 
had  been  a  scene  of  some  sort  she  felt  herself  bound 
in  honour  to  withhold  even  from  him.  He  guessed, 
too,  that  the  peculiarities  of  this  set  of  puppets  were 
in  her  mind.  With  all  her  discretion  she  was  a  trans- 
parent scroll  to  the  big,  wise  brother. 

She  was  thoughtful  to-night,  and  somewhat  less 
rosy  than  was  her  wont.  Ralph  had  "  happened  in  " 
to  supper,  having  had  a  telepathic  revelation  that 
Mrs.  Bowersox  would  have  waffles  and  white  clover 
honey  to  top  off  the  bounteous  meal.  He  always 
thought  of  her  and  honey  in  the  same  breath ;  he 
wondered  why. 

When  he  had  done  full  justice  in  appetite  and 
speech  to  the  delicacies,  the  four  friends  adjourned 
to  the  Bells'  parlour.  Myrtle  sat  down  by  her  work- 
table,  fitted  on  her  thimble,  and  took  up  a  slip  she 
was  trimming  with  narrow  lace,  as  a  christening-gift 
for  a  baby  who  was  to  be  taken  to  church  next 
Sunday  and  receive  the  name  of  "  Myrtle." 

"The  mother  thinks  it  'just  too  sweet  for  any- 
thing,' "  remarked  the  seamstress,  in  referring  to  the 
compliment  paid  her.  "  It  is  a  family  name  with  us. 
It  was  my  grandmother's,  in  the  first  place.  Then 
my  favourite  aunt  had  it  and  passed  it  on  to  me. 
She  died  a  few  years  ago.  For  her  sake,  I  like  it. 
Not  that  I  think  it  suits  me.  In  fact,  I  am  not 
sure  I  know  just  what  myrtle  is." 

"  You  're  certainly  not  like  the  stuff  that  runs  all 
over  graves,"  said  Ralph,  "  except,  perhaps,  as  it  kills 
out  grass  and  weeds,  and  is  the  only  thing  that  will." 


"The  Soul  of  a  Man'        141 

"  That  is  periwinkle." 

The  correction  was  so  sober  and  apparently  so  sin- 
cere that  Ralph  exclaimed  in  discomfiture,  — 

"  And  I  thought  I  was  getting  off  such  a  neat 
thing  !  A  real  impromptu  !  I  appeal  to  the  company 
at  large  if  anything  could  have  been  more  neatly 
turned." 

"  No  lathe  could  have  done  it  better,"  said  Dale. 
"  Have  you  ever  seen  the  crepe  myrtle,  Miss  Bell?  It 
is  a  graceful  shrub,  with  dark- green  leaves  and  crinkly 
flowers  of  an  exquisite  shade  of  pink." 

Everybody  laughed.  Miss  Bell  chanced  to  wear 
this  evening  an  India  silk,  —  one  of  her  favourite  pliant 
fabrics,  —  dark  green,  plain  in  the  skirt,  and  lighted 
in  the  corsage  by  a  full  front  of  pink  chiffon.  She 
laughed  with  the  others,  her  rising  colour  paling  the 
pink  billows  below  her  chin. 

"  Next?"  she  said,  looking  at  her  brother. 

"  The  classic  myrtle  was  very  fragrant,"  he  an- 
swered readily.  "  It  was  sacred  to  Venus,  but  use- 
ful, all  the  same.  Flowers,  leaves,  and  berries  were 
used  by  perfumers.  Wood-turners  made  various 
articles  from  the  wood,  which  was  firm,  prettily 
variegated,  and  susceptible  of  a  beautiful  polish." 

The  applause  came  now  from  Ralph  and  Dale, 
the  former  ejaculating,  "  And  she  says  the  name 
does  n't  suit  her!  " 

"  It  seems  impossible  to  keep  the  turning-lathe  out 
of  sight,"  was  Myrtle's  comment  upon  the  play  of 
compliment. 

She  addressed  herself  demurely  to  her  sewing, 
while  John  talked  in  sub-tones  of  a  parish  matter, 
and  Dale  and  Ralph  fell  into  the  like  semi-confi- 
dential chat  on  their  side  of  the  room. 

Neither  of  the  pair  lost  a  look  or  gesture  of  the 
needlewoman  upon  whom  sedateness  sat  with  such 
bewitching  effect.  Dale  was  in  the  shadow  of  the 


142  Dr.  Dale 

jutting  chimney,  his  arm  upon  a  projection  of  the 
mantel,  his  hand  overarching  his  eyes. 

To  dwell  in  Dreamland  for  a  season  —  longer  or 
shorter,  as  the  Fates  are  benignant  or  malevolent  — 
is  the  birthright  of  every  man,  he  had  convinced 
himself  weeks  before.  In  defiance  of  Fate,  he  had 
stepped  audaciously  into  the  sunshine.  In  fierce 
obstinacy,  he  elected  to  stay  there.  A  soldier  of 
fortune,  so  familiar  with  defeat  that  victory  surprised 
without  elating  him,  he  had  mastered  the  lesson  of 
living  by  and  for  the  day.  He  was,  as  he  had  schooled 
himself  to  believe,  a  man  without  a  future.  There 
was  all  the  more  reason  why  he  should  enjoy  the 
present. 

Courteously  impassive  in  manner,  he  replied  to 
Ralph  at  the  right  time,  and  pertinently,  hearing, 
as  a  rippling  accompaniment  to  the  jerky  periods, 
the  mingled  absurdity,  and  sound  sense  of  the  little 
man's  disquisitions,  the  murmur  of  Myrtle's  voice, 
and  watching  the  rhythmic  play  of  the  hand  that 
plied  the  needle;  feasting  sight  upon  her  mobile 
features,  the  turns  of  the  spirited  head  that  looked 
coquettish  and  were  as  natural  as  breathing  to  the 
dainty  thoroughbred. 

"  Thoroughbred  !  "  That  was  the  word  oftenest  in 
his  mind  when  with  her.  Generations  of  gentlefolk 
lay  behind  her.  Refinement  was  instinct,  not  a  study. 

Ralph  used  his  eyes  and  ears  with  ingenuous  free- 
dom. When  he  saw  an  opportunity  to  take  a  hand 
in  what  interested  him  more  than  a  dialogue  with 
Egbert  Dale,  —  fine  fellow  as  he  was,  —  he  seized 
it,  as  we  have  seen,  and  held  it,  despite  the  rebuff 
that  met  his  opening  remark. 

"  Give  me  credit  for  the  good  taste  of  preferring  to 
hear  you  talk  to  listening  to  myself,"  he  said  mag- 
nanimously, "  and  for  good  sense  in  agreeing  with 
you  in  being  bored  by  parties — and  things.  I  had 


"The  Soul  of  a  Man"       143 

about  made  up  my  mind  to  call  a  halt  before  you 
said  that  you  hated  the  sight  of  a  dress-coat." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  !  On  the  contrary,  I  hold  the 
dress-coat  to  be  the  crucial  test  of  gentlemanhood. 
It  is  a  social  shibboleth.  It  is  worth  while  to  try  each 
of  one's  acquaintances  by  it,  at  least  once." 

"  Right  you  are,  as  always !  And  righter  than 
usual  here.  I  took  my  first  lesson  in  that  line  at  a 
New  Year's  ball  I  attended  in  my  Sophomore 
year  — 

"  Does  that  tilt  of  the  eyebrows  mean  that  you  had 
never  suspected  me  to  be  a  college  man?  But  I  am. 
Or,  rather,  I  was  for  two  years.  They  dropped  me  in 
Columbia  (oh,  yes!  I  would  be  metropolitan,  or 
nothing!)  at  the  beginning  of  the  Junior  year.  If  I 
recollect  rightly,  I  had  forty-three  conditions.  The 
prejudiced  old  fogies  who  ran  the  musty  knowledge 
factory  thought  that  amounted  to  an  unconditional 
failure. 

"  I  dropped  easy,  —  not  wisely,  but  too  well.  I  was 
as  sick  of  them  as  they  were  of  me. 

"  But  that  ball !  I  had  n't  been  on  deck  five  min- 
utes when  a  lady  asked  me  to  bring  her  a  glass  of 
water.  I  did  n't  catch  on  to  her  blunder  at  once.  I 
saw  no  reason  why  a  gentleman  should  n't  fetch  a 
glass  of  water,  or  any  other  non-intoxicant,  for  a 
thirsty  woman  in  party  clothes.  But  when  another 
did  the  same  thing,  and  a  chaperon  said,  '  Here, 
my  man !  Bring  me  one,  won't  you  ? '  the  con- 
founded truth  burst  upon  me  like  a  hand-grenade. 

"  I  took  refuge  in  a  corner  of  the  back-hall  while  I 
blew  off  steam  in  a  few  well-selected  soliloquial  com- 
ments. Then  I  had  my  innings.  I  got  hold  of  a 
napkin,  threw  it  over  my  arm,  found  tray,  glasses,  and 
water  in  the  dining-room,  and,  equipped  with  a  rich 
Irish  brogue,  I  played  Aquarius  for  half  an  hour, 
pressing  this  one  to  '  take  a  glass,  sure,  mem,'  and 


144  Dr.  Dale 

assuring  that  one  that  he  '  looked  thot  dhry,'  making 
myself  a  conspicuous  nuisance,  until  a  classmate  rec- 
ognised me  and  threatened  to  split  on  me  if  I  did  n't 
drop  the  curtain. 

"As  you  say — I  believe  you  did  say  that?  —  a 
gentleman  never  looks  so  much  like  a  gentleman  as 
when  he  sports  a  claw-hammer,  and  the  other  kind  — 
Oh,  Lord,  why,  that'?,  what  I  must  be  !  " 

A  burst  of  kindly  amusement  testified  to  the  listen- 
er's appreciation  of  the  quandary.  The  self-convicted 
blunderer  lifted  the  jaw  he  had  dropped  in  comic  dis- 
may, and  went  on  briskly,  — 

"  The  rule  holds  good,  all  the  same.  The  Dominie, 
there,  looks  like  a  United  States  Senator  from  Massa- 
chusetts when  he  gets  himself  into  evening  toggery, 
and  Dale  would  be  taken  for  a  prince  of  the  blood 
anywhere.  I  'm  not  sure  just  what  that  means,  but 
you  're  IT,  old  man !  "  clapping  his  friend  on  the 
shoulder.  "  Patrician  to  the  backbone !  I  suppose 
you  Ve  got  your  pedigree  down  fine?  I  have  n't  one 
of  my  own.  Maybe  that 's  why  I  have  such  an  insane 
reverence  for  people  who  had  great-greater-greatest 
grandfathers." 

"The  founder  of  my  family  was  a  horticulturist, 
who  lost  his  estate  through  an  unfortunate  investment 
in  fruit,"  said  the  doctor,  with  perfect  gravity.  "An- 
other ancestor  was  an  eminent  navigator  who  after- 
ward came  down  in  the  world  and  became  a  vine- 
dresser. I  do  not  know  from  which  of  these  grandees 
I  inherit  the  becomingness  of  my  dress-coat.  I  fancy," 
slowly,  "  not  from  the  first  of  the  line." 

Ralph  stared  stupidly  from  his  serious  countenance 
to  the  laughing  faces  of  the  others. 

"What's  the  gag?  Names  and  dates  of  the  re- 
spectable parties  aforesaid,  if  you  please !  "  he  de- 
manded of  Dale. 

"  Adam,    Prince    of    Eden,    and    Noah,    Duke    of 


"The  Soul  of  a  Man""       145 

Ararat,"  rejoined  the  doctor,  without  a  smile.  "  Dates 
somewhat  uncertain." 

He  pulled  himself  to  his  feet  by  the  hand  that 
clutched  the  projection  of  the  mantel.  The  lamp- 
light shone  clear  upon  him,  standing  at  his  full,  erect 
height,  —  upon  the  clean,  fine  lines  of  his  face,  the 
perfect  proportions  of  figure  and  limbs.  His  bearing 
was  distinguished ;  his  intonations  were  those  of  the 
educated  citizen  of  the  world.  In  quality  his  voice 
had  the  mellowness  of  the  born  Southerner ;  in  accent 
and  inflection,  not  a  trace  of  the  provincial. 

With  the  quickening  of  spontaneous  admiration 
with  which  the  woman  opposite  him  took  in  these 
details,  came  an  odd  sensation,  a  disagreeable  reflec- 
tion she  knew  to  be  the  evolution  of  the  nameless  dis- 
comfort which  had  haunted  her  since  the  call  of  the 
afternoon. 

"  Could  there  be  a  germ  of  truth  in  what  that  old 
man  said  of  Dr.  Dale  and  Kate  Meagley  ?  I  cannot 
match  them  in  my  mind.  I  should  be  sorry !  On 
John's  account  and  on  his.  Of  course,  for  no  other 
reason." 

Yet  from  that  instant  she  was  conscious  of  regard- 
ing him  from  a  new  standpoint.  They  were  already 
excellent  friends.  She  met  the  smile  with  which  he 
turned  to  her  now  with  one  as  cordial  and  free  from 
embarrassment. 

"  If  I  were  my  own  master,  I  should  delight  in  sit- 
ting here  and  swapping  — or  chopping  —  gen'ealogies 
with  you  for  three  hours  to  come,  Ralph.  Miss  Bell 
does  n't  know  it  yet,  but  she  is  about  to  put  by  that 
baptismal  robe,  and  play,  first,  my  favourite  march, 
then  sing  my  favourite  song  before  I  go  forth  into  the 
great,  cruel,  wicked,  frozen  world  outside  of  the 
Bowersox  garden-fence." 

"  Definite  !  "  cried  Ralph.  "  If  she  were  to  tackle 
all  my  best-loved  marches  and  songs,  I  would  n't 


146  Dr.  Dale 

go  home  'till  daylight  doth  appear.'  Not  that  I'd 
mind  it!"  as  if  struck  by  a  tempting  idea.  "I'm 
more  comfortable  at  this  particular  instant  than  I 
shall  be  until  I  find  myself  again  in  this  identical 
chair,  before  that  identical  fire,  with  the  Dominie  to 
help  me  listen  to  the  music.  I  tell  you,  Arcady  was 
a  down-town  business  street  by  comparison." 

Dale  had  opened  the  piano  silently.  As  silently 
Myrtle  seated  herself,  and  began  the  selection  from 
"  Lenore  "  each  had  translated  for  the  other  the  first 
time  she  played  it  for  him. 

Strangely  enough,  it  was  his  interpretation  that 
filled  the  performer's  mind  as  the  music  mourned  and 
exulted. 

"  The  death-song  of  a  soul  that  has  battled  against 
overwhelming  odds  and  has  failed !  A  soul  that 
has  dared  to  defy  Destiny  itself  and  has  lost  all.  A 
soul  not  without  stain,  but  without  fear.  The  Soul 
of  a  MAN  !  " 

As  was  her  habit  when  playing  familiar  music  in  a 
half-light  or  in  the  dark,  she  shut  her  eyes,  while  her 
fingers  evoked  the  latent  harmonies. 

"The  death-song  of  a  soul !  "  She  said  it  over  and 
over,  until  a  weird  fancy  possessed  her.  The  soul 
not  without  stain,  but  without  fear,  freed  from  mortal 
trammels,  seemed  to  be  beside  hers,  to  speak  to  her 
in  pealing  chords  and  wooing  numbers,  —  to  claim 
kinship,  even  ownership,  in  her  thoughts,  her  aspira- 
tions, her  inmost  life.  And  her  yielding  to  the  spell 
was  joy,  not  regret. 

"  You  never  played  that  better,  little  girl !  "  said 
her  brother's  voice  from  the  fire. 

She  opened  her  eyes  with  a  start  that  shook  an 
alarmed  discord  from  the  keys. 

Egbert  Dale  stood  at  the  end  of  the  instrument,  in 
partial  shadow,  out  of  which  his  eyes  shone  down 
upon  her. 


"  The  Soul  of  a  Man"       147 

The  story  was  finished  then?  and  with  so  little 
volition  of  hers  that  she  had  not  known  when  she 
passed  from  one  movement  to  another ! 

"  Brava !  "  cried  Ralph,  beating  his  palms  together. 
"  Bis  !  encore  !  Out  of  sight !  Arcady  be  dished  !  " 

Myrtle  arose  with  a  fluttering  laugh. 

"  I  'm  afraid  there  is  n't  enough  left  of  me  for  your 
song,  Dr.  Dale.  As  I  told  you  once,  that  march 
takes  hold  of  me  as  no  other  music  ever  did.  I  feel 
as  if  I  had  been  hypnotised  by  the  composer." 

"  Try  a  change  of  treatment,"  suggested  Ralph, 
cheerfully.  "  Cut  Dale  adrift  and  let  me  stand  there 
while  you  send  '  one  clear  song  the  night  along.' " 

Dale's  gesture  kept  Folger  aloof. 

"  She  shall  not  sing  a  note  against  her  will,"  he 
said  quietly.  And  in  a  lower  tone,  meant  for  her 
ear  alone,  and  yet  more  gently,  "  I  thank  you !  — 
and  I  beg  your  pardon.  Good-night !  " 

That  night  Myrtle  asked  her  brother  for  the  first 
time,  — 

"  What  do  you  know  of  Dr.  Dale's  antecedents, 
John?" 

"  Next  to  nothing  so  far  as  particulars  go.  He 
told  me  once  —  without  my  asking,  of  course  —  that 
his  mother  died  when  he  was  a  mere  baby,  and  that 
he  lost  his  father  the  same  year.  Also,  that  his 
mother  was  an  Englishwoman,  and  that  he  had  no 
blood  relatives  in  America.  He  mentioned,  at  another 
time,  that  one  of  his  ancestors,  presumably  neither 
Adam  nor  Noah,"  laughing,  "  was  an  Italian." 

"  That  may  account  for  his  passion  for  music.  It 
certainly  does  for  his  clear  olive  complexion.  Where 
did  he  learn  to  play  on  the  organ?" 

"  He  says  he  '  picked  it  up.'  He  certainly  did 
not  pick  up  his  university  education.  I  infer —  more 
from  what  he  does  not  say  than  from  anything  he  ever 
told  me  —  that  he  had  hard  lines  in  his  boyhood,  and, 


148  Dr.  Dale 

for  the  most  part,  a  piteously  lonely  life  altogether.  I 
am  satisfied,  for  my  part,  with  what  he  is,  without 
inquiring  how  mind  and  character  were  built  up." 

Myrtle  stitched  away  silently  for  some  minutes; 
then,  with  indifference  that  seemed  sincere,  she 
asked,  — 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  his  name  connected  with 
Miss  Kate  Meagley's  ?  " 

John's  eyes  gleamed  quizzically. 

"  Put  the  question  in  a  different  form.  I  have 
heard  his  name  '  connected '  with  that  of  every  mar- 
riageable woman  in  our  '  best  circles/  as,  I  dare 
say,  he  has  heard  mine.  If  you  mean  to  ask  if  he 
has  any  intention  of  offering  his  fine  person  and  grow- 
ing income  to  the  Middle  Miss  Meagley,  I  can  answer 
decidedly,  '  No.'  Not  that  he  has  ever  alluded  to 
the  subject.  I  doubt  if  the  thought  ever  crossed  his 
mind.  Besides  —  " 

If  the  rest  of  the  sentence  framed  in  his  brain  had 
been  worded,  it  would  have  been, "  I  have  reasons  for 
believing  there  is  another  woman  in  the  case." 

"  '  Besides  '?"  prompted  his  sister,  inquiringly. 

"  Nothing  worth  speaking  of.  A  fancy  of  my  own 
weaving  it  would  be  silly  to  mention.  There  's  no 
discount  on  Dale.  He  is  a  remarkable  man  in  every 
way.  A  thoroughly  good  fellow,  and  worthy  of  the 
trust  all  who  know  him  must  put  in  him.  As  for 
me,"  trying,  as  the  manner  of  men  is,  to  hide  by 
feigned  levity  the  rising  emotion  that  threatened  eyes 
and  articulation,  "  my  '  soul  is  knit  with  the  soul  of 
Egbert  Dale,  and  I  love  him  as  my  own  soul.' " 

The  matter  lapsed  out  of  their  talk,  and  not  a  word 
had  been  said  of  the  girl  in  the  Cumberland  Moun- 
tains who  had  plucked  the  wounded  stranger  from 
the  jaws  of  death  and  nursed  him  back  to  life  and 
health. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

AT  THE  MOATED   WELL 
"  The  die  is  cast !  Pray  for  a  miracle !  " 

LIKE   the    fall   of  an   untimely   frost  upon 
peach-blossoms,  or  of  mildew  upon  beard- 
ing   grain,    the     announcement     that    Mr. 
Folger  declined  all  social  engagements  for 
the  present  descended  upon  the  haut  ton  of 
Pitvale,    and   "  shook   all  their  buds  of  hope  from 
blowing." 

Other  beaux  there  were  —  some  of  them  rather 
desirable  partis,  and  dancing  men  not  a  few,  to  make 
existence  supportable  to  the  dwellers  in  the  villas  that 
had  shot  up  like  mushrooms  upon  the  hills  to  the 
south  of  the  town.  There  were  twenty  of  these 
hybrid  constructions  where  there  was  one  two  years 
ago,  and  a  dozen  more  in  building.  The  domes  of 
graperies  and  conservatories  winked  at  the  sun  like 
so  many  huge  glass  eyes  in  the  face  of  the  landscape. 
Oil-reek  and  coal-smoke  were  mild  inflictions  to  the 
denizens  of  the  fashionable  precinct;  nuisances  tem- 
pered to  refined  olfactories  by  prevailing  winds  that 
carried  smell  and  smoke  in  other  directions. 

Oil-hunters  had,  in  sporting  parlance,  drawn  the 
coverts  to  the  southward  blank,  and  here  Society 
bloomed  like  a  rose  and  disported  itself  like  a  youth- 
ful hart  or  roe,  remote  from  derrick  and  furnace  shaft. 
New  York  gave  up  her  fashions  in  clothing  and  equi- 
pages, and  Philadelphia  kept  not  back  the  choicest 
products  of  her  celebrated  markets.  Parties  of  the 


150  Dr.  Dale 

Pitvalian  tlite  fluttered  over  seas  every  summer  and 
brought  back  curios,  Parisian  toilettes,  Dresden  china, 
Venetian  laces,  and  English  accents. 

Myrtle  Bell,  prudently  reserving  the  wickedest 
things  she  thought  and  said  for  her  brother's  ears, 
catechised  him  as  to  the  probability  that  the  panting, 
puffing,  sweating  town  might  be  the  predicted  child 
who  should  be  born  a  hundred  years  old, — so  ripe 
was  it  in  worldly  wisdom,  so  gray  in  sin. 

But  to  the  travelled  lion,  returned  to  his  native 
jungle  of  derricks  and  wells,  who  abruptly  turned  his 
back  upon  complimentary  convivialities,  and  would 
none  of  his  fellows'  festivities.  To  quote  his  own 
words,  he  had  "  settled  down  to  the  stride  of  busi- 
ness, and  needed  all  his  time  and  wits  for  the  per- 
fection of  a  scheme  that  would  open  the  eyes  of 
Pitvale  so  wide  it  would  not  get  them  shut  again 
this  century." 

Hitherto  whatsoever  he  had  laid  his  hand  unto  had 
prospered.  At  his  lavish  best  he  could  not  spend 
money  one  tenth  as  fast  as  it  came  into  his  coffers. 
He  had  drawn  no  coverts  blank,  nor  —  to  change  the 
figure  and  keep  the  phrase — had  he  drawn  one 
blank  in  the  mighty  lottery,  the  flanges  of  whose 
wheel  were  typified  by  the  gaunt  arms  shot  heavenward 
from  hill  and  plain.  People  began  to  think  that  suc- 
cess had  made  him  mad  when  it  was  known  that  the 
scheme  now  in  hand  was  nothing  more  and  nothing 
less  than  pushing  on  the  drilling  into  the  bed-rock 
that  had  stopped  the  flow  of  the  well  named  for  his 
only  sister. 

What  maggot  had  the  fellow  got  into  the  busy 
brain  thatched  by  his  red  shock  of  hair?  While 
"Jumbo,"  the  biggest  thing  yet  sunk,  was  averag- 
ing two  thousand  barrels  per  day,  why  waste  tens 
of  thousands  of  dollars  upon  a  venture  so  unlikely 
that  the  parade  of  sounding  and  drilling  and  pump- 


At  the  Moated  Well       151 

ing  made  him  the  song  of  the  drunkard  in  the  streets 
his  money  was  paving? 

The  song  waxed  into  a  howl  of  derision  from  drunk 
and  sober,  when  a  hundred  imported  labourers  were 
marched  to  the  hill  topped  by  the  extinct  well,  and 
set  to  digging  an  immense  trench  half-way  up  the 
declivity. 

"  To  hold  the  bulk  of  the  stuff  when  it  begins  to 
flow,"  said  the  oil-struck  proprietor.  "  I  don't  want  to 
swamp  all  of  Pitvale.  I'm  making  arrangements  to 
shut  in  the  well  as  soon  as  possible  after  the  rush 
sets  in.  But  all  the  king's  horses  and  all  the  king's 
men,  with  a  weight  of  ten-thousand-pound  tools  on 
top  of  all,  won't  be  able  to  do  this  at  once.  This  is 
not  a  secret  find,  gentlemen,  but  just  now  nobody  is 
in  it  but  myself.  On  February  fourteenth  —  St. 
Valentine's  Day  —  I  shall  take  in  a  partner.  One 
hundred  and  fifty  quarts  of  nitro-glycerine  will  be  in 
it.  I  'm  inviting  every  man  from  every  well  and 
every  house  for  ten  miles  around  to  come  that  day 
and  see  the  fun." 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  thirteenth  he  drove  his 
sister,  Miss  Bell,  and,  at  Ruth's  private  entreaty,  Kate 
Meagley,  in  his  victoria  to  inspect  his  completed 
preparations. 

The  day  was  as  bland  as  April ;  a  faint  violet  haze 
slept  in  the  dips  of  the  rolling  lands ;  the  smoke 
mounted  in  straight  black  columns  from  chimney- 
tops  ;  the  bank  of  the  northern  bend  of  the  creek  was 
edged  with  ochreous  tufts  of  water  willows,  —  those 
sensitive  thermometers  of  spring,  faithful  sap-levels 
which  are  always  the  first  to  remind  us  that  no  win- 
ter, whether  of  nature  or  of  soul,  can  be  eternal. 

Wrapped  in  her  ermine  cloak,  Ruth  Folger  lay 
back  in  the  padded  corner  of  the  smoothly  rolling 
carriage,  her  lily  face  as  serene  as  the  day,  smiling 
into  open  cottage-doors  and  windows,  waving  her 


152  Dr.  Dale 

hand  to  children  who  laughed  back  in  return  as  she 
was  borne  past;  exchanging  salutations  with  be- 
grimed labourers,  shirt-sleeved  hucksters,  and  team- 
sters in  overalls. 

"  Ruth's  constituents !  "  said  Ralph  to  Myrtle,  in 
tender  teasing.  "  You  know  they  would  have  run  her 
for  mayor  last  year,  but  for  fear  of  hurting  my  feelings, 
I  being  her  senior.  I  would  n't  take  the  office,  know- 
ing how  the  case  stood.  I  would  n't  hurt  Ruthie's  feel- 
ings for  all  the  mayoralties  extant,  and  I  knew  that 
at  heart  she  hankered  after  the  office.  She  is  the 
only  person  in  the  universe  who  believes  in  me.  She 
is  as  positive  that  everything  is  going  off  well  to- 
morrow as  —  I  am  !  " 

His  sister's  trustful  smile  was  beautiful  to  see;  a 
flicker  of  colour  wavered  across  her  face. 

"Why  shouldn't  I  be  positive?  You  have  never 
deceived  me  yet.  And  since  all  this  work  and  bustle 
please  you,  I  enjoy  it.  If  I  do  suspect,  very  far 
down  in  my  soul,  that  'The  Ruth'  would  have  been 
left  high  and  dry  but  for  its  name,  I  don't  think  the 
less  of  you  for  that." 

"  She  will  feel  it  more  than  you,  if  all  should  not 
go  right  to-morrow,"  said  Myrtle,  guardedly,  feign- 
ing to  be  intent  upon  the  spirited  horses  who  cur- 
veted at  a  passing  truck  laden  with  barrels. 

She  was  upon  the  box-seat  with  Ralph,  her  back 
to  the  others,  and,  bent  upon  enjoying  the  excursion, 
tried  not  to  feel  Kate  Meagley's  eyes  boring  into  her 
shoulders  and  spine. 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  would  have  risked  that  if  I 
hadn't  been  sure  what  I  was  doing?"  in  the  same 
key.  "  She  begged  me  —  sweet,  white  dove  that  she 
is !  —  to  let  her  put  money  into  the  affair.  Just  to 
make  me  think  she  had  faith  in  it,  and  to  ease  the 
loss  a  little  if  loss  should  come  — 

"  Pshaw !  "  with  a  whizzing  snap  of  his  whip  that 


At  the  Moated  JPell       153 

made  the  off  horse  plunge  violently.  "  There  are 
things  a  fellow  cannot  trust  himself  to  talk  about  in 
broad  daylight,  even  to  you  !  " 

She  was  silent ;  her  face  wore  the  expression  of 
large,  cordial  friendliness  it  always  had  for  the  brother 
of  the  woman  she  had  learned  to  love  very  fondly 
in  these  weeks  of  intimate  companionship,  —  a  look 
that  barred  every  approach  to  gallantry  more  surely 
than  coldness  could  have  done. 

Ruth  had  engaged  her  companion  in  conversation, 
a  continuous  murmur  that  made  a  tete-a-tete  practi- 
cable. Ralph's  courage  rose. 

"  Sometime,"  he  pursued,  his  attitude  one  of  lazi- 
est nonchalance  to  the  observers  behind  him,  "  when 
the  fire  has  burned  down  to  a  bed  of  living  coals 
and  the  lamp  is  in  the  corner,  and  you  have  been 
singing  the  song  I  love  the  best  —  " 

Myrtle  laughed  saucily  into  his  very  eyes,  as  care- 
lessly as  a  child  of  one  third  her  age  would  look  at 
him, — 

"You  must  first  decide  what  that  is  among  the 
dozen  you  always  ask  for.  You  are  catholic  in  your 
tastes." 

"  In  songs,  perhaps,  yes  !     In  people  —  no  !  " 

"  Excuse  me  !  but  surely  there  are  Jack  and  Dr. 
Dale  !  "  interposed  Myrtle,  animatedly.  "  Standing 
by  that — what  is  it?  It  looks  like  a  levee  with  a 
moat  beyond.  Have  you  fortified  'The  Ruth'? 
Those  square  constructions  —  I  suppose  they  are 
tanks  —  might  pass  for  the  tops  of  casements  or  bomb- 
proofs.  Are  you  seeing  it  all,  Ruth  dear?" 

The  carriage-road  wound  about  the  base  of  the 
artificial  terrace.  John  Bell  and  Dr.  Dale  hastened 
down  a  flight  of  steps  cut  in  the  bank,  to  assist  the 
ladies  to  alight.  Two  men  were  in  waiting  with  a 
sedan-chair  for  Miss  Folger.  Bell  put  one  foot  on 
the  carriage-step  and  lifted  her  out  with  no  apparent 


154  Dr.  Dale 

effort.  As  dexterously  he  seated  her  in  the  sedan- 
chair  and  motioned  the  would-be  bearers  to  stand 
back. 

"  If  you  will  grant  Dr.  Dale  and  myself  the  honour," 
he  said  in  his  simple  direct  way,  "we  will  guar- 
antee you  a  safe  and  easy  journey.  It  was  a  capital 
notion  of  Ralph's  to  provide  for  your  seeing  what 
wonderful  things  he  has  been  doing  for  your  name- 
sake." 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  '11  find  me  heavy  by  the  time  you 
have  climbed  the  steps !  "  deprecated  Ruth. 

"  A  butterfly  is  a  heavy  weight !  "  returned  her 
brother. 

He  placed  himself  directly  behind  the  chair,  —  a 
hand  ready  to  steady  it,  should  it  careen  to  either 
side.  Nothing  ever  diverted  his  watchful  devotion 
from  her.  Myrtle  forgot,  for  the  moment,  at  whose 
side  she  was  walking,  in  the  sincerity  of  her  esteem 
for  one  she  refused  to  regard  in  the  light  of  an 
admirer. 

"  He  is  a  model  brother !  "  she  said  in  honest 
warmth. 

"  That  is  certainly  one  recommendation,"  rejoined 
the  Middle  Miss  Meagley,  smoothly,  offensively,  and 
unanswerably. 

She  was  past-mistress  of  the  combination. 

"  She  could  not  be  more  disagreeable  if  I  had 
broken  my  promise  to  her  sisters !  "  thought  Myrtle, 
irefully.  "  She  tempts  me  to  wish  I  had  !  " 

She  ran  up  the  steps,  brushing  by  sedan  and 
bearers,  and  was  ready  to  greet  the  party  from  the 
edge  of  the  moat  when  the  chair  was  set  down. 

"  You  can't  think  what  a  picture  you  all  made  as 
I  looked  down  upon  you,"  she  cried.  "  I  thought 
of  St.  Catharine,  borne  up  cloudy  steeps  by  angels, 
and  Pilgrim's  Progress,  and  going  up  the  crater  of 
Vesuvius,  and  a  dozen  other  divinely  incongruous 


At  the  Moated  Well       155 

things.  Now  Mr.  Folger  is  going  to  play  Mr.  Inter- 
preter, and  tell  us  what  everything  means.  I  think 
this  must  be  the  Hill  Difficulty." 

She  would  not  be  put  down  by  Kate  Meagley  or 
any  other  —  being  only  human  and  very  feminine, 
she  said  "  Cat!  "  plainly  to  herself. 

There  was  much  to  tell,  and  Ralph  was  only  too 
happy  to  be  spokesman.  The  moat  was  a  trench, 
twenty  feet  deep  and  as  wide,  lined  on  the  sides  and 
bottom  with  thick  planks,  joined  so  closely  as  not  to 
show  a  seam.  It  encompassed  the  hill,  which  was 
graded  down  from  the  summit  to  the  inner  side  of 
the  moat. 

"  To  give  the  oil  an  easy  fall  into  it,"  said  the  pro- 
jector. "  I  wish  now  that  I  had  made  it  fifty  feet 
deep  and  forty  wide.  It  will  be  running  over  by  to- 
morrow night,  although  I  have  piped  it  down  to  that 
tank  you  see  below,  and  chartered  two  trains  to  take 
it  away  as  fast  as  the  portable  tanks  on  the  cars  can 
be  filled. 

"  You  see  my  calculations  are  based  upon  a  cer- 
tainty. '  The  Ruth  '  is  a  two-storied  concern.  We 
found  everything  O.  K.  in  the  first  well  we  struck. 
When  that  was  dry,  I  drilled  through  a  second  series, 
bed-rock,  first  and  second  sand,  and  then  came  to 
what  the  fools  about  here  called  'bed-rock'  again. 
It  is  third  sand  !  but  in  the  shape  of  pebble-rock,  the 
hardest  we  ever  struck,  like  pudding-rock;  a  sort  of 
conglomerate  packed  hard  by  some  kind  of  a  rumpus 
of  the  lower  powers,  maybe  a  million  years  ago. 
Under  that  I  know  there  is  oil !  To-morrow  every- 
body else  will  know  it !  M 

He  rushed  it  off  in  a  torrent  of  energy  that  took 
his  breath  with  it  and  silenced  the  auditors. 

Ruth  gazed  at  him  with  love-full  eyes ;  the  warm 
pallor  of  her  complexion  enhanced  by  the  red  of 
the  parted  lips. 


156  .        Dr.  Dale 

John  Bell  walked  away  a  few  steps,  and  seemed  to 
look  down  into  the  moat. 

"  It  hurts  me  to  see  her !  "  he  said,  aside  to  Dr. 
Dale.  "  This  is  sheer  madness,  but  the  bursting  of 
the  bubble  will  almost  break  her  heart.  I  don't  see 
what  has  got  into  the  fellow  lately ! " 

Dale's  answer  was  a  mute  shake  of  the  head.  In 
his  heart  he  thought  that  he  knew.  The  age  of 
derring-do  was  not  over.  Ralph  Folger  was  a  Knight 
of  To-day. 

The  knight  had  removed  his  hat  while  he  declaimed, 
now  pacing  the  edge  of  the  embankment,  now  cross- 
ing to  the  thither  side  on  one  of  the  slight  bridges 
spanning  the  moat  in  several  places. 

"Just  like  a  little  red  ant!"  Kate  Meagley  told 
her  family  afterwards. 

Had  the  simile  occurred  to  any  other  member  of 
the  party,  Ruth  excepted,  the  aptness  of  it  would  not 
have  been  denied. 

"  I  have  sunk  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  this  hill 
since  She  went  dry,"  the  dreamer  declared.  "  Inside 
of  a  week  fifty  thousand  barrels  of  oil  will  repay  me 
principal  and  interest,  and  leave  a  fair  profit.  It's 
like  tapping  the  Bank  of  England  !  " 

At  which  precise  juncture  Kate  Meagley  sat  down 
suddenly  upon  a  convenient  stone  she  had  already 
seen  was  clean  and  dry  and  not  jagged,  and  sank  her 
face  upon  her  knees  with  a  heart-rending  moan. 

Ruth  partly  raised  herself  from  her  chair  and  gave 
a  little  cry.  Her  hands  were  outstretched  toward  the 
weeping  daughter  thus  confronted  by  her  family 
skeleton;  her  trembling  lips  and  suffused  eyes  be- 
spoke divinest  pity. 

"  Hang  it  all !  "  muttered  Ralph,  gnawing  the  side 
of  his  thumb.  "When  sensibilities  are  like  that, 
people  ought  to  use  cocoaine  !" 

Myrtle  and  Dale,  being  nearest  to  him,  turned  aside 


At  the  Moated  Well       157 

simultaneously  to  hide  their  smiles.  John  Bell  went 
straight  up  to  Miss  Meagley,  and  inquired,  like  a 
humane  Christian,  if  he  could  do  anything  to  help 
her. 

She  rallied  with  praiseworthy  heroism  at  his  voice. 
A  couple  of  strenuous  swallows  downed  the  hysterics ; 
a  couple  of  mops  with  her  handkerchief  removed 
the  tear-marks.  She  staggered  in  regaining  her  feet, 
and  John  took  an  honest,  businesslike  hold  of  her 
arm. 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  "  appropriately  humble.  "  I 
am  terribly  ashamed  of  my  weakness.  But  it  came 
over  me  in  a  rush  and  surprised  me.  I  am  not  often 
so  foolish.  Dear  Ruth  !  "  a  dry  sob  escaping  her,  as 
she  knelt  by  the  sedan-chair,  "  you  will  forgive  me, 
I  know !  " 

The  unwilling  spectators  moved  away  in  different 
directions  by  a  common  impulse  not  to  intrude  upon 
the  scene  which  was  imminent.  Ralph  grasped  John's 
elbow  and  walked  him  off  around  an  angle  of  the 
hill.  Dr.  Dale  and  Myrtle  strayed,  purposelessly, 
out  of  ear-shot,  and,  still  without  purpose,  stopped  to 
stare  down  into  the  yawning  trench. 

It  was  an  awkward  moment.  Delicacy  forbade 
discussion  of  what  had  just  happened.  It  would  be 
in  bad  taste  to  speak  out  the  growing  conviction  in 
the  mind  of  each  that,  of  all  the  mad  freaks  of  pro- 
spectors, speculators,  and  money-makers  generally, 
which  this  small  quarter  of  the  globe  had  seen  of 
late  years,  what  they  were  now  looking  upon  was 
the  most  insane.  For  the  afternoon  they  were  the 
fanatic's  guests.  He  was  their  friend,  and  Ruth 
Folger's  brother. 

The  scent  of  freshly  planed  lumber,  clean,  sweet, 
and  cool,  overcame,  for  the  time,  the  volatile  pun- 
gency of  crude  oil. 

Myrtle  inhaled  it  gratefully. 


158  Dr.  Dale 

"  It  is  like  a  message  from  the  woods,"  she  said. 
"  I  could  shut  my  eyes  and  believe  myself  in  the 
Adirondacks  or  in  a  Maine  logging-camp." 

"  I  hate  it!  "  said  Dale,  passionately. 

The  girl  glanced  at  him  in  amazement.  His  face 
was  literally  darkened ;  his  eyes  flamed ;  the  lower 
lip  was  caught  under  teeth  that  bit  it  white.  He 
threw  his  arms  out  in  a  gesture  of  abhorrence  or 
defiance,  or  both. 

"  Great  Heavens !  how  I  hate  it !  "  he  repeated 
hoarsely. 

Turning  on  his  heel,  he  walked  past  the  angle  where 
John  and  Ralph  had  disappeared. 

Myrtle  stood,  confounded,  where  he  had  left  her. 
Her  sheltered  life,  under  the  guardianship  of  an 
indulgent,  amiable  uncle,  and  of  the  brother  who 
would  have  bitten  his  tongue  in  two  sooner  than 
speak  roughly  to  a  woman,  had  given  her  tittle 
opportunity  of  knowing  anything  practically  of  the 
savage  element  dominant  or  rampant  in  every  man. 
She  had  spoken  flippantly  of  Vesuvius  just  now. 
Had  the  crater  gaped  at  her  feet,  she  could  not  have 
been  more  astounded.  It  swam  through  her  mind, 
hazily,  that  John  had  said  something  of  this  man's 
Italian  ancestry.  Did  that  account  for  the  outbreak? 

"  Will  you  let  me  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Bell?  " 

He  was  by  her,  again  master  of  himself  and  gravely 
courteous,  — the  graver  for  regret  that  he  had  offended 
her.  More  courteous  he  could  not  be. 

"  It  is  asking  great  things  of  you.  I  cannot  com- 
plain if  you  never  speak  to  me  again.  Apology  is 
not  worth  much  when  explanation  does  not  go  with 
it;  and  I  cannot  explain  what  made  me  forget  my- 
self and  what  is  due  to  you.  I  can  but  say  that  I  am 
sorry;  sorrier  than  I  have  ever  made  myself  before 
since  I  have  known  you." 

Myrtle's  displeasure,  however  righteous,  never  out- 


At  the  Moated  Well        159 

lived  the  first  breath  of  penitence.  The  warmth  of 
her  ungloved  palm  was  upon  his  half-extended  hand 
before  he  ceased  to  speak ;  the  sunshine  of  her 
cordial  eyes  was  shed  into  his  soul. 

"  Don't  say  anything  more  about  it !  "  she  said 
heartily.  "  I  have  too  many  tender  spots  in  my  own 
memory  not  to  sympathise  with  other  people  when 
they  wince  at  a  chance  touch. 

"  Ah,  Jack !  "  forestalling  the  possibility  of  misin- 
terpretation of  her  attitude  as  he  and  Ralph  came 
around  the  corner,  "  Dr.  Dale  and  I  are  shaking 
hands  upon  a  compact  we  don't  mean  to  confide  to 
anybody  else  just  now.  Don't  you  think  we  would 
better  be  going?  The  sun  is  setting." 

Ralph  was  quiet,  for  him,  in  the  homeward  drive, 
and  his  companion  on  the  box  seat  did  not  obtrude 
herself  upon  his  thoughtful  mood. 

An  odd  depression  bore  down  her  own  spirits. 
She  had  had  a  jar  that  jostled  her  thoughts  out  of 
plumb  and  unstrung  her  nerves.  Laugh  the  incident 
off  as  she  might,  in  recollection  it  was  an  event  of 
moment;  the  revelation  of  a  man  swept  beyond  the 
hold  of  self-control  by  the  veriest  trifle.  She  did  not 
respect  him  less,  but  she  felt  less  acquainted  with 
him. 

"The  Ruth"  and  "Jumbo"  were  upon  sister- 
eminences  to  the  north  of  Pitvale  proper.  The 
Folgers  had  macadamised  the  direct  route  leading 
from  these  wells  to  the  lower  town,  and  thence  diverg- 
ing to  the  railway,  a  mile  away.  After  bowling 
briskly  along  this  main  road  for  fifteen  minutes,  the 
carriage  turned  into  an  avenue,  skilfully  graded,  as 
smooth  as  a  floor,  and  lined  with  young  elms.  It  led 
to  the  gate  of  the  Folger  grounds,  and  had  been 
constructed  with  express  reference  to  Ruth's  infirmity. 

She  had  told  Myrtle,  in  one  of  their  confidential 
talks,  that  she  never  drove  over  it  without  thinking 


160  Dr.  Dale 

how  much  Ralph's  tender  care  of  her  was  like  that  of 
the  angels  who  will  not  let  one  of  the  Father's  children 
"  touch  his  foot  against  a  pebble." 

"  Mr.  Bell  says  that  is  the  correct  reading  of  the 
text  in  the  original,"  she  added. 

A  groom  stood  at  the  horses'  heads  while  the 
master  of  the  lordly  house  sprang  down  to  lift  his 
sister  out. 

Before  she  let  him  take  her,  she  leaned  forward  to 
kiss  Myrtle,  — 

"  We  will  call  by  for  you  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow, 
dear.  The  blast  is  to  be  at  eleven.  And  you  will 
not  forget  that  you  are  all  three  to  dine  with  us  in 
the  evening  to  make  merry  over  Ralph's  triumph." 

Myrtle  put  her  arms  about  her  impulsively,  — 

"  We  forget  nothing  that  concerns  you,  dear  Ruth  ! 
Good-by !  Don't  let  to-morrow's  excitement  keep 
you  awake  to-night.  You  must  be  in  your  best  looks 
as  the  Queen  of  the  day." 

Kate  Meagley  had  her  farewell  word,  uttered  while 
Ralph  carried  his  sister  up  the  steps  and  into  the  hall 
with  ease  that  told  the  strength  of  his  wiry  frame. 

So  grateful  for  your  tact  and  your  forbearance, 
this  afternoon !  "  she  cooed,  the  baby-stare  piteous 
and  insolent.  "  It  was  so  delicate  and  sweet  in  you 
to  lure  all  the  men  out  of  sight !  None  of  them  would 
have  understood  just  how  I  felt,  except,  perhaps, 
Dr.  Dale.  His  intuitions  are  really  womanly,  when 
he  is  at  liberty  to  exercise  them.  I  can  always 
depend  upon  him.  Good-by !  " 

She  went  up  the  steps  of  the  veranda  as  Ralph  ran 
down. 

He  had  skirted  the  business  streets  and  was  driv- 
ing into  the  country-road  toward  the  Bowersox  house 
before  he  faced  Myrtle  to  ask,  — 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  me  what  you  are  think- 
ing about  at  this  precise  instant?" 


At  the  Moated  Well       161 

The  girl  flushed  scarlet. 

"  I  can't  think  of  anything  I  should  mind  more !  " 
she  said  bluntly. 

At  that  precise  instant  she  was  saying  to  the  con- 
fidential, dtshabillt  self  with  whom  one  never  assumes 
prudish  airs,  — 

"  The  very  nastiest  creature  in  all  God's  universe 
of  nature  is  a  spiteful  woman  !  " 

"May  I  guess?"  persisted  Ralph,  scanning  the 
blushing  face  with  merciless  eyes.  "  Will  you  tell 
me  if  I  am  right?  " 

She  laughed  outright  at  the  suggestion. 

"I  will  —  honestly !" 

"  Then,"  slowly,  never  removing  his  gaze  from 
the  amused  countenance,  "  you  are  thinking  of  the 
wager  you  and  Dr.  Dale  were  shaking  hands  upon, 
this  afternoon,  —  the  bet  as  to  the  outcome  of  to- 
morrow's experiment." 

"  Mr.  Folger !  "  her  face  ablaze  with  indignation, 
"how  dare  you  say  such  a  thing?  How  can  you 
think  it?  Whatever  maybe  your  opinion  of  me,  you 
might  know  that  Dr.  Dale  is  incapable  of  making 
light  of  what  means  so  much  to  you  —  and  to  Ruth. 
Have  you  no  faith  in  your  friends?  " 

"  I  trust  you  !  "  He  lifted  his  hat,  and  bowed  pro- 
foundly. "  Try  to  forgive  me  !  I  'm  afraid  all  this 
fuss  and  fury  has  rattled  me  a  bit,  after  all.  Forget 
what  I  thought,  please.  I  '11  never  imagine  another 
thing  of  you  that  is  n't  four-square,  white,  and  super- 
angelic.  And  I  say,  Miss  Bell !  "  speaking  fast,  for 
they  were  at  the  gate,  and  reddening  furiously  over 
face  and  neck,  "  would  you  mind  saying  one  little 
prayer  —  just  a  little  one  for  a  cent,  you  know  —  to- 
night for  '  The  Ruth '  and  — -  incidentally,  you  know 
—  for  Me?" 


ii 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"THE   RUTH"    SPEAKS 

"  Enslaved,  illogical,  elate, 
He  greets  th'  embarrassed  gods  ;  nor  fears 

To  grasp  the  iron  hand  of  Fate, 
And  match  with  Destiny  for  beers." 


1 


great  day,  big  with  fate  for  Ralph 
Folger  and  "  The  Ruth,"  dawned  fair  and 
dry. 

By  sunrise  the  handsome  flag  given 
by  Ruth  Folger  to  The  Bachelors'  Club 
floated  straight  out  in  a  southerly  wind,  and  trails  of 
bunting  were  looped  from  window  to  window  across 
the  facade  of  the  building. 

From  the  tall  flagstaff  in  the  grounds  of  the  Folger 
house  a  graceful  pennon  streamed  above  the  Stars 
and  Stripes,  in  answering  salute  to  the  Club  ensign. 
Up  and  down  the  main  street  of  the  town,  that  looked 
like  a  city  to-day,  shops  and  dwellings  bourgeoned 
with  the  national  colours.  Folger  Court,  a  cul  de  sac 
at  the  end  of  a  side-street,  was  composed  of  model 
cottages,  built  by  Ruth  Folger,  and  rented  at  low 
rates  to  families  where  there  were  children.  "  No 
childless  couples  need  apply,"  was  the  inflexible  law, 
according  to  Ralph's  story.  An  excess  of  olive- 
plants  was  recommendation,  not  objection. 

The  Court  occupied  a  space  equal  to  nine  city 
blocks,  three  on  each  of  the  three  sides.  A  small 
park  faced  by  the  houses  had  a  fountain  in  the  centre. 
Each  cottage  had  its  own  front  and  back  yard.  At 
this  season  the  windows  were  bright  with  house- 
plants.  To-day  an  American  flag  flew  from  each 


"The  Ruth"  Speaks         163 

porch ;  some  of  the  picket-fences  were  wreathed  with 
evergreens. 

At  the  junction  of  the  boulevard,  leading  from  the 
Folger  place,  with  the  principal  highway,  the  opera- 
tives in  the  wells  owned  by  brother  and  sister  had 
constructed,  over-night,  as  a  surprise  to  their  em- 
ployers, a  triumphal  arch  of  evergreens.  Upon  the 
keystone  the  initials  R.  &  R.  were  emblazoned  in 
gilt. 

By  eight  o'clock  every  thoroughfare  was  alive  with 
men,  women,  and  children,  in  holiday  attire.  When 
two  of  the  Folger  carriages — the  first  containing 
Ruth,  Myrtle  Bell,  Kate  Meagley,  and,  by  Ralph's 
especial  invitation,  Mrs.  Bowersox  and  Jeff,  Beautiful 
sitting  upon  the  box  by  the  coachman ;  the  second 
driven  by  the  master,  John  Bell  and  Dr.  Dale  on  the 
back  seat  —  passed  The  Bachelors'  Club,  and  so  by 
way  of  the  lower  town  in  the  direction  of  the  twin 
northern  hills,  sidewalks,  windows,  and  even  roofs 
were  packed  with  people  who  cheered  lustily  for 
Ralph,  for  Ruth,  for  the  Dominie  and  the  Doctor. 

"  Three  cheers  an'  a  toiger  for  Misthress  Folger 
as  is  to  be !  "  vociferated  a  burly  Irishman  from  a 
block  in  the  shadow  of  the  arch.  "  An'  before  iver 
we  open  another  big  well,  may  there  be  another 
letther  alongside  o'  thim  two  !  "  pointing  to  the  inter- 
twined initials.  "  Hip  !  hip  !  hurrah  !  " 

Myrtle  had  chosen  to  ride  with  her  back  to  the 
horses.  Innocently  unaware  of  the  meaning  made 
apparent  to  her  companions  by  tossing  handkerchiefs, 
hands,  caps,  and  laughing  stares  directed  at  the 
ladies'  carriage,  she  nodded  smilingly  at  her  brother 
just  as  Ralph  arose  to  his  feet,  the  reins  in  the  hook 
of  his  arm,  and  swung  his  hat  right  and  left,  his  head 
like  a  danger  beacon  in  the  sunlight,  his  face  one 
beam  of  gratification. 

"  If  you  persist  in  looking  so  enticing,  Miss  Bell, 


164  Dr.  Dale 

we  shall  have  them  taking  the  horses  out  and  drag- 
ging us  the  rest  of  the  way  by  men-power,"  remarked 
Kate  Meagley,  honeyedly.  "  Dear  Ruth  !  I  should 
think  you  would  not  envy  the  Queen  her  Jubilee  !  " 

"  I  do  not,  when  I  think  what  a  tribute  all  this  is 
to  him  !  " 

She  looked  serenely  and  supremely  contented, 
calm  of  nerve  and  of  heart. 

"  The  impersonation  of  perfect  faith  that  casteth 
out  fear,"  thought  Myrtle,  with  a  heart-ache.  She 
was  armoured  by  disinterested  solicitude  for  her 
friend  against  Miss  Meagley's  pointed  innuendo. 
"  Could  I  believe  as  implicitly  in  any  man's  judg- 
ment? Her  love  dignifies  even  him." 

A  cordon  of  amateur  policemen  fenced  the  multi- 
tude within  safe  bounds  when  the  scene  of  prospec- 
tive action  was  reached.  For  a  radius  of  many  rods 
about  the  base  of  the  moated  hill,  the  ground  was 
cleared  of  every  living  creature  except  the  workmen, 
who  had  their  orders  to  retire  when  a  cannon  should 
be  fired  from  a  platform  erected  near  the  "  Jumbo  " 
derrick. 

Throwing  the  reins  to  a  groom,  Ralph  sprang  to 
the  ground,  bowed  cheerily  to  the  ladies  in  the  other 
carriage,  and,  the  crowd  parting  respectfully  to  let 
them  pass,  set  off,  attended  by  Bell  and  Dr.  Dale,  for 
a  last  and  rapid  round  of  the  works. 

"  It 's  tempting  Providence  !  "  sighed  Mrs.  Bower- 
sox,  clutching  Jeff,  who  was  standing  on  the  seat  for 
a  better  view,  while  with  the  other  hand  she  pointed 
to  the  top  of  the  new  steel  tank,  where  two  tall  figures 
and  one  short  were  silhouetted  blackly  against  the  pale 
sky.  "  Suppose  that  hundred  —  or  was  it  a  thousand 
gallons  of  nitry-glycerine  —  or  is  it  dynomite?  — 
should  go  off  while  they  are  there,  there  's  no  saying 
what  would  happen  to  them,  poor  dears  ! " 

Myrtle    shuddered    involuntarily.      Kate  Meagley 


"The  Ruth"  Speaks         165 

said,  "  Don't  talk  nonsense,  Aunt  Sarepta !  "  Ruth 
smiled,  and  patted  the  dear  woman's  knee. 

"  It  can't  go  off  until  Ralph  gives  the  word,  you 
know.  He  has  looked  to  everything  himself,  even 
the  most  minute  details.  The  new  tank  will  not  be 
injured  by  the  explosion.  It  is  not  near  enough  to 
the  well  that  is  to  be  opened.  Ralph  is  to  fire  the 
cannon  with  his  own  hand. 

"  There  !  he  is  shaking  hands  with  the  others  ! 
That  means  he  is  sending  them  away  and  they  are 
wishing  him  good  luck.  Now  —  the  workmen  are 
running  down  the  hill.  Sandy  McAlpin,  John 
Crosby,  Carl  Nolting,  and  three  other  men  will  stay 
with  him.  Sandy  has  asked  to  be  allowed  to  shut  in 
the  well  with  his  own  hands.  If  you  will  take  my 
field-glass,  Mrs.  Bowersox,  you  will  see  the  cap  and 
the  weighted  tools  lying,  all  ready,  on  the  ground  near 
the  cannon  platform.  Nothing  has  been  forgotten." 

Her  breath  was  quicker;  the  hand  holding  the 
glass  shook  slightly,  but  her  eyes  were  cloudless,  her 
smile  was  unchanged.  Her  excitement  was  born  of 
suspense,  not  anxiety. 

An  awful  stillness  descended  upon  the  crowds 
standing  close  as  wheat-stalks  in  a  field,  in  road,  in 
common,  and  on  house-tops.  Boys  had  climbed 
trees  and  posts ;  men  balanced  themselves  upon 
fences.  All  eyes  were  directed  to  one  spot;  hun- 
dreds held  their  breath  as  one  man,  when  a  solitary 
figure,  bareheaded,  appeared  upon  the  platform, 
raised  one  arm  skyward,  as  if  in  invocation,  then 
touched  the  cannon. 

Quick  upon  flash  and  thunder  followed  an  explo- 
sion that  shook  the  earth.  A  jet  of  water,  perhaps 
twenty  feet  in  height,  was  thrown  up  from  the  mouth 
of  the  well,  and  sank  back,  and  there  was  a  great  calm. 

Blank  dismay  nobody  had  words  or  disposition  to 
express,  sat  upon  every  countenance. 


166  Dr.  Dale 

A  boy  cried  out,  "  Hi !  is  that  all  there  is  of  it?  " 
and  the  man  next  to  him  struck  him  on  the  mouth. 

Then  Jeff  Bowersox,  having  mounted  to  the  box- 
seat  where  the  coachman  anchored  him  by  a  grip 
upon  the  seat  of  his  trousers,  —  Beautiful,  sitting  up- 
right from  his  haunches,  bracing  him  on  the  other 
side,  —  remarked  in  his  most  agreeably  patronising 
tone,  glancing  around  for  sympathy  and  approval,  — 

"  How  very  amoosing  !  " 

A  woman  of  the  town,  in  soiled  finery,  who  had 
pushed  herself  to  the  side  of  the  carriage  quite  under 
Ruth's  elbow,  set  up  a  cracked  laugh  at  the  child's 
words,  repeating  them  shrilly. 

The  laugh  caught  and  spread  like  the  detonations 
of  a  pack  of  damp  fire-crackers,  until  the  throng  was 
rocking  and  reeling  in  a  convulsive  roar. 

Above  it  rang  out  a  voice  all  knew  for  that  of  the 
man  who  stood  erect  upon  the  seat  of  Ralph  Folger's 
drag,  his  eyes  blazing  upon  them,  his  hand  raised 
threateningly. 

"  For  shame  !  Shame  upon  you  all !  "  shouted  John 
Bell  with  the  full  strength  of  his  mighty  lungs ;  and 
Egbert  Dale  at  his  side,  like  a  trumpet  blare,  — 

"  You  are  a  pack  of  ungrateful  hounds !  " 

All  this  in  less  time  than  it  would  take  one  to  write 
three  lines  of  this  true  happening. 

Then  a  second  column  shot  through  the  floor  of 
the  derrick,  half-way  to  the  top,  black  as  tar,  —  mud, 
sand,  stones,  the  fragments  of  dynamite  cans, — 
through  the  pitchy  column,  a  lurid  greenish  stream 
that  reached  the  apex  of  the  tower,  —  and,  before  the 
spectators  could  exclaim,  like  seven  thunders  utter- 
ing their  voices,  a  tremendous  volume  of  gas,  im- 
prisoned from  the  foundation  of  the  world,  tore  its 
way  upward,  enveloping  derrick  and  tank,  and  hiding 
the  light  of  day  from  the  eyes  of  the  awestricken 
beholders  below  the  hill. 


"The  Ruth"  Speaks         167 

Another  minute,  and  it  had  cleared  away,  reveal- 
ing a  perpendicular  shaft  that  glowed  like  burnished 
gold  in  the  sun.  Eighty  feet  high  it  mounted,  curl- 
ing, as  it  struck  the  crown-pulley  at  the  top  of  the 
derrick,  and  shivering  into  amber  spray,  raining 
down  upon  the  slopes  on  every  side  of  the  well. 
With  the  shout  of  a  mountain-torrent  it  rushed  up, 
a  solid  pillar  of  rock-oil,  to  break  and  flow  —  Pac- 
tolus  swollen  into  Amazon  — into  the  prepared  moat. 

The  commotion  that  ensued  is  not  to  be  described 
in  written  language.  The  air  was  darkened  by  hats, 
caps,  handkerchiefs,  canes,  and  shawls  tossed  high 
above  the  heads  of  men  and  women  in  the  intoxi- 
cation of  delight.  The  bellow  from  human  throats 
arose  above  the  shout  of  the  geyser.  Men  cast  them- 
selves upon  one  another's  necks,  weeping  and  laugh- 
ing; the  piercing  hurrahs  of  women's  and  boys'  voices 
cut  the  body  of  sound  like  knives ;  terrified  babies 
screamed ;  a  cordon  of  police  wedged  itself  between 
the  base  of  the  hill  and  the  excited  masses  that  tried 
to  press  nearer  to  the  moat.  Beyond  all,  the  graded 
eminence  arose  like  a  gilded  dome,  so  continuous 
and  lustrous  was  the  rush  of  oil  into  the  vast  trench 
prepared  to  receive  it. 

A  lusty  groom  clung  to  the  nose  of  each  of  the 
plunging  horses  attached  to  Miss  Folger's  carriage ; 
the  coachman  let  go  of  Jeff  to  haul  upon  his  reins ; 
the  boy  lurched  backward,  grazed  Kate  Meagley's 
bonnet  in  his  descent,  and  landed,  upside  down,  in  his 
mother's  lap. 

"  Very  neatly  done !  "  said  Dr.  Dale,  from  the  car- 
riage-step, seizing  the  flourishing  heels,  and  dexter- 
ously righting  their  proprietor.  "  Could  n't  have 
been  better !  " 

John  Bell  was  at  the  other  side  of  the  carriage, 
shaking  hands  with  Ruth,  his  face  aglow  with  con- 
gratulation, his  eyes  shining  moistily. 


i68  Dr.  Dale 

"  Your  trust  in  him  is  justified,"  he  said  in  her  ear. 
"  It  is  the  most  magnificent  thing  I  ever  saw.  And 
he  is  a  genius  !  " 

Her  composure  was  sublime ;  her  eyes  were  wells 
of  light;  pure  joy  and  devout  gratitude  made  her 
face  as  it  were  the  face  of  an  angel. 

"  Thank  you  !  "  with  a  low,  happy  laugh.  "  Would 
it  be  possible  to  send  a  message  to  him?  " 

"  I  will  take  it !  I  promised  to  go  up  to  him  as 
soon  as  the  work  was  done.  What  shall  I  give  him 
beside  your  love?  " 

"  Say  that  he  would  not  let  me  share  the  expense, 
but  he  cannot  keep  me  from  having  nine  tenths  of 
the  triumph ;  that  I  was  never  so  happy  before,  and 
can  never  be  happier  again,  and  that  I  said,  God 
bless  him,  now  and  forever !  That  is  all.  Take 
care  of  yourself.  The  crowd  is  frightful !  " 

"  Dale  will  stay  with  you.  Not  that  there  is  any 
danger  to  you,  or  to  anybody  else.  People  are  too 
happy  to  be  troublesome." 

He  had  held  her  hand  all  this  time,  and  pressed  it 
as  he  let  it  go,  after  a  last  long  look  into  her  face. 
He  carried  the  luminous  purity  of  it  in  his  mind  all 
the  way  to  the  platform  where  the  field-piece  was 
posted. 

It  was  not  a  time  there  for  the  delivery  of  love- 
messages.  Sandy  McAlpin  and  six  picked  men  had 
waded  knee-deep  in  the  rolling  tide  up  the  slope  to 
the  derrick  of  "  The  Ruth."  John  noted,  with  the 
double  set  of  senses  developed  by  intense  excitement, 
that  the  immense  flag  hoisted  early  in  the  day  upon 
the  top  of  the  derrick  drooped  against  the  staff, 
darkly  saturated  with  oil-spray. 

Ralph  was  issuing  orders  from  the  platform,  as  to  a 
storming  party,  making  a  speaking-trumpet  of  his 
hands.  Excess  of  vitality  and  the  hill-breeze  lifted 
his  hair  into  a  ludicrous  likeness  to  the  dummy-head 


"The  Ruth"  Speaks         169 

stuck  upon  the  pole  of  a  battery  in  a  lecture-room 
to  illustrate  the  effect  of  the  electric  current.  The 
conceit  tickled  John's  fancy.  When  he  put  his  hand 
on  the  dummy's  shoulder,  he  almost  expected  to  re- 
ceive a  shock. 

"  Bravo  !  old  man  !  "  he  began,  —  when  Ralph 
jumped  a  foot  into  the  air;  his  shout  was  a  groan, — 

"  By  Jove  !  he  's  down  !     It 's  that  infernal  gas !  " 


CHAPTER   XV 

AT  DINNER   WITH   THE   FOLGERS 

"  When  Love  is  a  Game  of  Three, 
One  heart  can  win  but  pain ; 
While  two  between  them  share  the  joy 
That  all  had  hoped  to  gain. 
And  one,  in  its  bitter  sadness, 
Smiles  on,  lest  the  others  see  ; 
But  two,  in  their  new-found  gladness, 
Forget 't  is  a  Game  of  Three." 

RALPH  FOLGER  read  the  sequel  of  the 
morning's  work  in  the  Extra  Evening 
Edition  of  The  Private  Olio,  while  he 
awaited  the  coming  of  his  guests  that 
evening. 

Well  groomed  and  natty  in  his  dinner-jacket,  — 
preferred  to  a  dress-coat  because,  he  said,  it  "  made 
him  look  less  like  a  Delmonico  waiter,"  —  he  stood, 
straight  as  a  pin,  in  a  pair  of  irreproachable  patent- 
leather  shoes,  one  hand  in  his  pocket,  and  read  the 
"  story  "  to  his  sister. 

He  handled  the  sheet  gingerly  with  the  tips  of  his 
fingers.  The  printer's  ink  was  damp;  the  paper 
smelled  of  oil-gas.  So  did  all  Pitvale  on  that 
memorable  day.  Even  the  patrician  colony  on  the 
southern  hills  was  fain  to  close  windows  and  doors, 
and  breathe  shallowly  to  abate  the  nuisance  until 
the  worst  of  it  should  be  over. 

As  the  man  who  was  richer  by  many  thousands  of 
dollars  than  he  had  been  ten  hours  earlier,  read,  he 
interpolated  at  will  and  at  length,  — 

" '  The  Power-house,  a  mile-and-a-half  down  the 
creek,  presided  over  by  Mr.  Alexander  McAlpine, — 


At  Dinner  with  the  Folgers    171 

affectionately  known  through  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  valley  as  "  Big  Sandy  "  —  has  been  compelled  to 
extinguish  its  fires  for  the  afternoon  and  night  on 
account  of  the  gas  generated  by  what  is  literally  a 
deluge  of  oil. 

"  '  Mr.  McAlpin,  to  whom  was  assigned  the  proud 
duty  of  putting  the  cap  of  "  The  Ruth  "  in  place, 
nearly  paid  for  his  temerity  with  his  life.  Endeav- 
ouring to  get  the  tools  into  the  well,  he  was  over- 
come by  the  gas,  and  fell  under  the  bull-wheels. 
He  was  rescued  immediately  by  his  brave  com- 
panions, Messrs.  John  Crosby  and  Carl  Netting, 
and  Drs.  Dale  and  Kruger  — ' 

("  Much  that  ass  Kruger  had  to  do  with  him  after 
Dale  got  there !  Sandy  hates  Kruger  like  poison. 
Says  he  was  the  death  of  Sandy's  old  mother,  year 
before  last.  Treated  her  for  colic  when  she  had 
pneumonia.) 

"  '  Drs.  Dale  and  Kruger  were  summoned.  He  was 
taken  to  The  Bachelors'  Club,  of  which  he  is  a 
prominent  member,  in  Mr.  Folger's  trap,  which  was 
in  waiting  for  that  gentleman,  and  remained  uncon- 
scious for  two  hours,  but  subsequently  recovered 
fully,  and  insisted  upon  returning  to  the  scene  of 
action.' 

("  Maybe  Sandy  was  n't  as  mad  as  a  fellow  can  get, 
and  hope  to  save  his  soul,  when  he  heard  what  doings 
he  had  missed  !  He  's  a  game  one,  is  Sandy !  Scotch 
woodcock !) 

"  'After  Mr.  McAlpin  was  removed  from  the  neigh- 
bourhood of"  The  Ruth,"  several  other  plucky  fellows 
volunteered  to  undertake  the  herculean  job  of  shut- 
ting in  the  largest  well  ever  struck  in  the  oil-region.' 

("  Or  that  ever  will  be  struck  while  grass  grows 
and  water  —  and  oil  —  run  !) 

"  '  The  packer  for  the  oil-saver  was  tied  on  the 
bull-wheel  shaft,  the  tools  were  placed  over  the  hole, 


172  Dr.  Dale 

and  run  in.  But  the  pressure  of  the  solid  stream  of 
oil'  — 

("  Solid  !     I  should  say  so  !     Solid  as  adamant !) 

"  ' —  against  it  prevented  it  from  going  lower,  even 
with  the  suspended  weight  of  the  two-thousand-pound 
tools.' 

("That's  as  near  as  these  newspaper  fools  ever  get 
to  the  truth  !  There  were  three  thousand  pounds  for 
the  first  trial.) 

" '  One  thousand  pounds'  additional  weight  were 
added  before  the  cap  was  fitted  and  the  well  closed. 
A  casing-connection  and  tubing-lines  connect  "  The 
Ruth  "  with  immense  tanks  at  the  railway  depot.  It 
is  said  that  these  tanks  are  already  filled,  and  the 
gigantic  reservoir  is  still  but  half  emptied.  But  for 
the  prophetic  foresight '  — 

("  There  's  tautology  for  you  !) 

—  " '  and  superhuman  energy  of  Pitvale's  most 
multi-millionaire,  in  providing  for  this  incredible 
volume  of  petroleum,  this  fair  valley  would  ere  now 
have  been  inundated,  and  one  of  the  most  thriving 
towns  in  Pennsylvania  destroyed  by  the  very  agency 
that  called  her  into  being. 

"  '  It  is  roughly  estimated  that  the  production  will 
be  ten  thousand  barrels  the  first  twenty-four  hours. 

"  '  Thus  ended  the  grandest  scene  ever  witnessed 
in  Oildom.  When  the  barren  rock,  as  if  smitten  by 
the  rod  of  Moses,  poured  forth  its  torrent  of  oil,  it 
was  such  a  magnificent  and  awful  sight  that  no 
painter's  brush  or  poet's  pen  could  do  it  justice.'  "  1 

Ralph  Folger  let  the  Extra  drop  from  his  finger- 
tips into  the  fire,  and  watched  it  writhe  in  the  flame 
for  a  second,  then  take  a  flying  leap  up  the  chimney, 
before  he  faced  his  sister. 

"  With  all  its  buncombe  and  bosh,  there  is  a  grain 
of  truth  in  that  account.  There 's  more  than  a  grain 

1  See  J.  J.  McLaurin's  Sketches  in  Crude  Oil. 


At  Dinner  with  the  Folgers   173 

of  satisfaction  in  having  demonstrated  that  I  am  not 
as  big  a  fool  as  I  look,  and  as  my  neighbours  took 
me  to  be." 

He  threw  himself  into  a  chair  by  Ruth,  and  put  a 
hand  —  almost  as  small  as  hers,  but  hairy  and 
freckled  where  hers  was  satin-smooth  and  white  — 
against  the  cheek  that  met  it  lovingly. 

"  Now  we  won't  have  another  syllable  of  shoppy- 
talk  to-night,  Ruthie.  I  have  wallowed  in  oil  until  I 
am  sick,  body  and  soul.  Or,  maybe  it 's  my 
heart  that's  nauseated.  Anyhow  I  taste  and  smell 
and  exhale  —  and  think  —  Oil !  I  took  a  borax  and 
rosewater  bath,  then  a  Turkish  bath,  an  hour 
ago,  and  thought  of  you  —  and  another  glorious 
woman  —  all  the  time,  and  I  can't  get  rid  of  the 
reek!" 

"  It  is  the  reaction,  darling  boy !  You  will  be  all 
right  to-morrow.  But  you  shall  not  be  worried  by 
what  Myrtle  calls  '  oleaginous  technicalities '  any 
more  this  evening.  I  '11  conceal  my  pride  in  you, 
and  let  you  suspect  the  love  alone. 

"  It  is  the  old  story  of  Bruce  bursting  into  tears  at 
the  source  of  the  Nile,  and  saying,  'Is  this  all?' 
Still,  if  Mrs.  Hemans  does  moralise  over  his  depres- 
sion, which  was  n't  really  disappointment,  but  a  trick 
of  the  nerves,  and  if  we  are  given  to  quoting 

'  O  Happiness  !  how  far  we  flee 
Thine  own  sweet  paths  in  search  of  thee  ! ' 

the  truth  remains  that  Bruce  would  n't  have  torn  out 
that  page  of  experience  from  his  life  if  he  could,  and 
that  you  will  never  regret  your  splendid  enterprise. 

"To-morrow  we'll  talk  of  some  of  the  beautiful 
things  you  can  do  with  money.  Now  !  " 

A  pretty  flourish  of  the  hands  dismissed  the  subject. 

Ralph  captured  both  of  them,  and  kissed,  first  one, 
then  the  other,  with  brotherly  fervour. 


174  Dr.  Dale 

The  Bells  and  Dr.  Dale,  entering  from  the  hall, 
and  Kate  Meagley  from  the  conservatory,  saw  the 
action  and  paused  instinctively. 

"  Come  in  !  come  in !  "  called  Ralph,  jumping 
up.  "  If  I  Ve  done  anything  to  be  sorry  for,  I  'm  glad 
of  it !  If  a  fellow  can't  kiss  his  own  sister,  what  fel- 
low's sister  can  he  kiss,  I'd  like  to  know?  " 

"  That  remains  to  be  proved !  "  said  John  Bell, 
na'fvely. 

His  paternal  attitude  toward  his  sister  was  con- 
sistent, even  to  his  obtuseness  to  other  men's  admira- 
tion of,  and  possible  designs  upon  her. 

A  throaty  gurgle,  full  of  meaning,  came  from  Kate 
Meagley.  In  greeting  the  guests  she  gave  her  hand 
first  to  Myrtle,  still  quivering  all  over  with  sup- 
pressed merriment. 

"  Excuse  me  !  "  she  said,  under  cover  of  salutations 
which  Ralph  made  voluble.  "  But  the  simplicity  of 
the  average  brother  is  too  delicious !  I  am  almost 
reconciled  to  the  fact  that  I  never  had  one !  " 

Myrtle  felt  the  colour  beat  hotly  in  her  cheeks. 

"  It  is  well  to  reconcile  oneself  to  the  inevitable," 
she  answered  audibly,  sweeping  on  to  the  seat 
vacated  by  Ralph  in  her  favour. 

The  slightly  contemptuous  cadence  and  hardly 
perceptible  backward  motion  of  her  head  made 
Ralph  eye  her  keenly,  then  glance  at  Kate  with 
shrewd  divination  of  the  by-play  that  would  have 
amazed  the  actors.  Miss  Meagley  was  as  shrewd  as  he, 
but  neither  suspected  to  what  he  owed  the  increased 
graciousness  of  the  smile  with  which  his  arm  was 
accepted  when  dinner  was  served,  or  that  Miss  Bell 
inclined  a  more  indulgent  ear  to  his  table-talk  be- 
cause of  the  hot  sting  to  maidenly  delicacy  inflicted 
by  the  woman  she  began  to  dislike  more  than  any- 
thing else  in  the  world. 

By  an  ingenious  contrivance  of  a  folding-leaf  pro- 


At  Dinner  with  the  Folgers  175 

jecting  over  her  knees,  Ruth  was  able  to  preside  at 
her  own  table.  John  Bell  was  at  her  right  hand,  Kate 
Meagley  at  her  left,  where  Dr.  Dale  should  naturally 
have  been  placed  had  not  Ralph's  wishes  controlled 
his  sister's  arrangements.  She  knew  that  he  did  not 
affect  her  companion's  society,  and  that  he  was  fond 
of  Dr.  Dale.  Thus  it  came  about  that  Myrtle  sat 
next  to  a  man  who,  she  knew,  admired  her,  and 
opposite  one  whose  interest  in  her  she  could  not 
ignore. 

A  greater  contrast  to  the  tumult  of  the  forenoon 
than  was  presented  at  the  evening  meal  could  not 
be  imagined.  The  light  of  wax  candles,  grouped  in 
silver  candelabra,  was  tempered  by  pink  shades ;  a 
bank  of  palest  pink  roses  filled  the  centre  of  the 
table,  exactly  matching  the  shade  of  Myrtle's  crfyon 
gown. 

"  Was  it  an  inspiration?  "  queried  Ralph,  directing 
notice  to  the  coincidence. 

"  If  so,  it  was  Ruth's,  not  mine !  She  asked  me 
to  wear  it.  I  am  thankful  not  to  have  introduced  a 
discord  into  the  opus" 

"  If  the  roses  had  been  crepe  myrtle,  we  should 
have  had  unison  instead  of  harmony,"  remarked  Dr. 
Dale,  in  quiet  significance  lost  upon  Kate  Meagley, 
while  it  sent  a  wave  of  deeper  rose  to  the  cheeks  of 
his  vis-a-vis. 

She  was  looking  her  best  to-night.  Her  shoulders 
rose,  fair  and  firm,  from  her  pink  corsage ;  the  finely 
moulded  arms  were  partially  veiled  to  the  elbows 
by  a  fall  of  cobwebby  lace.  The  sophisticated  host 
could  have  told  the  cost  of  the  filmy  stuff  to  a  guinea. 
Kate  Meagley's  envious  calculation  undershot  the 
figure. 

The  Middle  Miss  Meagley  was  not  looking  amiss 
in  blue  silk,  —  a  recent  birthday  gift  from  Ruth.  The 
deep  satisfaction  of  sitting  next  the  man  she  loved  the 


176  Dr.  Dale 

more  because  she  loved  herself  so  well,  mitigated  her 
stare,  cleared  and  coloured  her  skin,  unbent  her  lips, 
and  almost  lowered  the  arch  of  her  eyebrows.  When 
Dr.  Dale  inclined  his  fine  head  to  catch  her  rounded 
tones  and  his  eyes  answered  hers  in  mirthful  and  in 
earnest  glance,  she  could  afford  to  let  the  obnoxious 
foreigner  play  what  cards  she  chose  for  the  great 
catch  of  Northwestern  Pennsylvania.  She  detested 
Ralph  Folger  as  much  as  she  feared  him.  He  was 
not  a  marrying  man.  There  was,  therefore,  no  real 
danger  lest  the  vigorous  flirtation  he  was  carrying 
on  with  John  Bell's  sister  under  the  reverend  gentle- 
man's unseeing  eyes  would  bring  forth  other  fruit 
than  temporary  diversion  for  him  and  chagrin  for  the 
lady. 

Kate  saw,  in  the  vivacity  of  the  battledore  and 
shuttlecock  compliment  and  repartee  that  kept  their 
end  of  the  board  lively,  the  pastime  of  an  idle  hour 
on  his  side.  She  was  maliciously  willing  to  have  the 
other  party  to  the  game  work  out  the  punishment  of 
her  presumption. 

John  Bell's  full  tones  and  the  responses  of  Ruth's 
gentle  voice  in  carrying  on  such  personal  talk  as  is 
practicable  in  a  small  company  where  each  couple 
has  an  individual  interest  in  the  topic  that  engages 
thought  and  tongue,  established  the  even  balance  of 
masculine  and  feminine  voices.  Butler  and  footman, 
shod  in  shoes  of  silence,  glided  behind  the  chairs  of 
hosts  and  guests,  changing  plates,  handing  dishes, 
and  replenishing  glasses  with  never  a  clink  or  tinkle. 

Myrtle  Bell  loved  luxury  every  whit  as  well  as 
Miss  Folger's  paid  dependant,  and  had  a  truer  appre- 
ciation of  the  beautiful  and  artistic.  She  also  had  a 
sober  knowledge  of  the  gay  and  wicked  world  the 
provincial  schemer  had  not  had  an  opportunity  to 
acquire.  After  making  prudent  and  liberal  allow- 
ances for  the  deceptive  ways  of  men  in  general,  and 


At  Dinner  with  the  Folgers   177 

rich  young  men  in  particular,  she  was  aware  that  she 
had  but  to  hold  out  the  taper  third  finger  of  her  left 
hand  to  have  the  most  costly  diamond  ring  money 
could  buy  fitted  to  it  as  the  precursor  of  the  plain 
gold  band  that  would  seal  her  ownership  of  wealth 
beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice. 

She  was  not  tempted  in  spirit,  however  fondly 
imagination  may  have  hovered  above  the  suggestion. 

"  Nice,  if  unencumbered  !  "  said  the  judicial  sub- 
jective nature  whose  mission,  psychologists  tell  us,  is 
to  preserve  each  of  us  from  himself  or  from  herself. 

Queerly  interjected  athwart  her  musings  was  the 
vision  of  old  Meagley,  wrinkled  and  palsied,  the 
bleared  eyes  lustful  for  his  neighbour's  goods. 

"  He  done  it  !  " 

She  caught,  affrighted,  at  the  words  before  they 
quite  left  her  lips.  Had  the  gas  she  had  seen  rush 
up  —  a  monstrous  afrite  —  from  the  lower  deeps,  that 
day,  to  spread  through  the  upper  world,  affected  her 
brain? 

She  glanced  nervously  around  the  table. 

John  was  bending  toward  Ruth,  eyes,  ears,  and 
thoughts  engrossed  by  that  marvel  of  white  radiance. 
Kate  Meagley  was  talking  low  and  rapidly  to  Dr. 
Dale,  whose  eyes  were  fixed  upon  a  flushed  rose  he 
had  picked  up  from  the  cloth.  He  was  listening  so 
intently  that  he  spared  no  thought  for  aught  beside 
what  the  other  said.  It  was  not  a  social  pretence, 
but  genuine  absorption  of  interest  which  awoke  the 
man  all  along  the  line  of  nerve  and  action. 

With  an  unaccountable  qualm,  Myrtle's  startled 
eyes  left  the  animated  speaker  and  rapt  listener,  for 
the  little  man  whom  Oil  had  made  great,  and  was 
making  greater  each  minute  while  he  feasted  with  his 
friends. 

His  hair  was  absurdly  red  in  the  faint  rose-light; 
his  face  was  unbecomingly  florid,  although  he  had 


178  Dr.  Dale 

not  touched  one  of  the  white,  amber,  and  ruby  glasses 
flanking  his  plate ;  he  was  talking  fast  and  flippantly. 
With  all  her  liking  for  him,  her  hearty  appreciation 
of  his  worth  and  abilities ;  in  the  face  of  her  womanly 
hankering  after  the  thousand  solid  goods  wealth  can 
buy,  and  nothing  else  can  procure,  her  head  was 
cool  enough  to  reckon  up  pros  and  cons  and  strike  a 
balance. 

"  A  princely  estate,  but  the  master  would  be  an 
encumbrance,"  thought  this  sapient  young  person. 
"  I  will  put  the  whole  matter  out  of  my  mind.  He 
liked  me  in  Italy,  but  he  let  me  pass  out  of  his  life 
for  a  whole  year.  He  will  soon  get  over  this  more 
serious  fancy.  For  Ruth's  sake,  I  must  see  that  it 
goes  no  further." 

In  comfortable  ignorance  of  the  fact  that  his  fate 
had  been  decided,  Ralph  led  the  way  to  the  smoking- 
room  when  the  ladies  had  left  the  table. 

It  was  fitted  up  after  his  own  whim,  like  a  large  tent, 
or  pavilion.  Hangings  of  Persian  stuffs  fell  from 
cornice  to  floor,  rounded  the  corners,  and  were  shirred 
to  the  centre  of  the  ceiling.  The  pavilion  was  lighted 
by  a  hanging  lamp  of  wrought  twisted  iron  from 
Siena ;  low  tables  and  lounging-chairs  were  clustered 
near  the  fireplace.  Not  a  picture  or  book  was  to  be 
seen. 

"  I  don't  admit  so  much  as  a  newspaper,"  said  the 
auburn-haired  sybarite,  when  the  three  had  settled 
themselves  to  their  satisfaction.  "  A  smoke  should  be 
a  sedative,  —  Latin  root,  sedatio,  "  the  act  of  calm- 
ing." I  looked  it  up  in  the  dictionary.  Hence  this 
spurt  of  erudition.  There  are  lots  of  other  synonyms, 
but  that  is  enough  for  me.  I  take  refuge  in  my  tent 
for  the  one,  only,  and  express  purpose  of  being 
calmed. 

"  As  his  pal  said  of  Dick  Fanshawe,  I  'will  have 
peace  if  I  have  to  lick  every  damned  galoot  in  the 


At  Dinner  with  the  Folgers   179 

valley  to  get  it !  '  Newspapers  are  exciting  and 
provocative  of  profanity.  Books  that  are  calming 
are  stupid  reading,  and  stupid  things  irritate  me. 
Pictures  set  me  to  thinking  when  they  are  worth 
having,  and  what  good  comes  of  thinking  when 
the  day's  work  is  done?  What  does  it  all  amount 
to? 

"  I  say,  Dale,  you  quoted  some  verses  to  me,  when 
we  were  mooning  here  one  night,  that  have  plagued 
me  ever  since.  They  swim  through  my  head  just 
when  I  want  to  think  of  something  else  —  or  not 
to  think  at  all,  which  is  a  deuced  sight  better. 
Something  about  a  'moving  row'?" 

Dale  took  his  cigar  from  his  lips  to  recite  the  lines. 

"  We  are  no  other  than  a  moving  row 
Of  magic  shadow-shapes  that  come  and  go 
Round  with  this  sun-illumined  lantern  held 
In  midnight,  by  the  Master  of  the  show. 

"  Impotent  pieces  of  the  game  He  plays, 
Upon  this  checker-board  of  nights  and  days  ; 
Hither  and  thither  moves,  and  checks,  and  slays, 
And  one  by  one  back  in  the  closet  lays. 

"  The  ball  no  question  makes  of  ayes  or  noes, 
But  right  or  left,  as  strikes  the  player,  goes ; 
And  HE  that  tossed  you  down  into  the  field, 
HE  knows  about  it  all  —  HE  knows  —  HE  knows  !  " 

The  syllables  slipped  slowly  and  musically  from 
the  speaker's  tongue.  He  seemed  to  caress  each  as 
it  passed.  The  beautiful  iron-gray  head  was  nobly 
defined  against  the  leaf-brown  satin  of  the  chair- 
back;  the  lids  were  lowered  over  the  slumbrous  eyes. 
He  raised  his  cigar  again  to  his  mouth,  and  there 
was  reposeful  stillness  in  the  luxurious  retreat. 
From  the  remote  music-room  an  occasional  bar  of 
dreamy  music  melted  into  the  silence. 

Then  John  Bell's  deep  voice  thrilled  out,  sweet, 
solemn,  confident,  — 


i8o  Dr.  Dale 

"  Yes !  HE  knows !  Blessed  be  His  holy  Name 
for  this  one  hope  of  a  suffering  world  !  The  '  mov- 
ing row  '  marches  at  His  orders." 

"  And  when  one  of  the  '  impotent  pieces '  is  left 
to  itself  ?  "  said  Dale,  suggestively. 

He  looked  too  indolent  for  argument,  but  John 
took  up  the  gauntlet. 

"  It  is  never  '  left.'  Sometimes  it  mutinies.  Then 
it  must  take  the  consequences  of  its  transgression. 
Even  then  the  rescuing  hand  is  never  far  away ;  the 
Father-heart  yearns  over  the  wanderer. 

'  I  know  not  where  His  islands  lift 

Their  fronded  palms  in  air ; 
I  only  know  I  cannot  drift 
Beyond  His  love  and  care.' 

That  is  the  best  sedative,  Ralph !  As  much  better 
than  not  thinking  as  immortality  is  better  than 
annihilation." 

"  When  a  fellow  has  it,  Dominie  !  What 's  that?  " 
turning  his  head  sharply  toward  the  door. 

A  muffled  scraping  and  shuffling  was  going  on 
in  the  hall ;  a  thud  jarred  the  panels,  as  if  a  heavy 
body  were  pushed  against  them. 

Ralph  walked  across  the  room  and  pulled  the 
door  open.  Arthur,  the  decorous,  pitched  heavily 
over  the  threshold.  Apparently  he  had  been  bar- 
ring the  intruder's  entrance  with  his  determined 
body. 

As  he  dropped,  the  Rev.  C.  Mather  Welsh  stepped 
over  him,  planting  one  heel  upon  the  tail  of  the  foot- 
man's dress-coat,  the  other  upon  a  lappel.  Before 
the  fallen  picket  could  turn,  or  try  to  rise,  the 
shrunken  figure  of  old  Meagley  followed  his  leader, 
caught  his  toe  in  Arthur's  watch-chain,  and  measured 
his  inconsiderable  length  upon  the  carpet. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

SOCIALISM   AND   SONG 

"  I  am  told  them  callest  thyself  a  King.  Know,  if  thou  art  one, 
that  the  poor  have  rights ;  and  Power,  in  all  its  pride,  is  less  than 
Justice." 

JOHN  BELL  and  Dr.  Dale  sprang  forward  to- 
gether to  lift  the  fallen  man.  The  shock  had 
driven  the  breath  out  of  his  lungs.  The  young 
men  put  him  into  a  chair,  where  he  lay,  choking 
and  coughing,  stretching  out  twitching  hands 
like  one  drowning. 

"  Get  a  glass  of  brandy  for  him,  Arthur !  "  ordered 
the  master  of  the  house  from  his  post  of  observation 
on  the  hearth-rug. 

"No!  no!  fellow!  not  brandy,  in  God's  name!" 
interposed  Welsh,  crossing  the  servant's  path  to  the 
door. 

"  I  have  none  of  that  brand,"  rejoined  Ralph, 
"  being  opposed  to  profanity  in  any  form.  A  nip  of 
Cognac  or  old  Monongahela  would  bring  him  around 
sooner  than  anything  else.  But  I  don't  insist  upon 
a  waste  of  good  liquor." 

He  knotted  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and  eyed 
the  process  of  restoration  with  calm  unconcern. 
After  beckoning  up  the  footman,  and  enjoining  him 
not  to  let  the  ladies  know  that  the  two  men  were  in 
the  house,  he  kept  the  rdle  of  an  observer  who  had 
neither  part  nor  lot  in  the  matter. 

When  Mr.  Meagley's  eyes  ceased  to  bulge,  his 
trembling  hands  no  longer  plucked  agonisedly  at  his 
throat,  and  his  respiration  became  nearly  normal, 
Welsh  took  a  chair  by  him,  depositing  his  hat  upon 
the  floor. 


1 82  Dr.  Dale 

"  Ah !  beg  pardon ! "  said  Ralph,  coolly,  "  I  was 
taken  aback  by  your  unexpected  appearance,  and 
the  manner  thereof,  and  it  did  not  occur  to  me  to 
invite  you  to  sit  down.  If  you  can  state  the  object 
of  your  visit  more  comfortably — and,  ah — compactly 
—  sitting  than  you  could  standing  up,  or  stepping 
over,  you  are  welcome  to  a  chair. 

"  I  had  given  my  servant  —  whom,  by  the  way,  I 
never  call  '  fellow  '  in  any  circumstances  —  orders  not 
to  admit  any  one  this  evening,  being  engaged  with 
friends  of  my  own  choosing.  Naturally  I  was  not 
prepared,  any  more  than  he  was,  for  your  pushing 
yourself  into  society.  Perhaps,  as  my  time  is  valu- 
able, you  would  not  mind  proceeding  at  once  to 
business." 

The  careless  tone  was  exchanged  in  the  last  sen- 
tence for  the  curt  speech  of  a  man  of  affairs.  He 
meant  business,  and  had  done  with  badinage. 

The  plucky  parson  met  him  upon  the  prepared 
ground. 

"  I  am  as  little  disposed  to  squander  time  as  you 
can  be,  sir.  I  am  here  on  behalf  of  an  unfortunate 
man  whose  claims  upon  this  community  are  every 
whit  as  strong  as  your  own.  Mr.  Meagley  sank 
wells,  and  got  no  oil ;  you  sank  the  same  number  of 
wells,  and  found  oil  in  such  quantities  that  it  promises 
to  make  you  the  richest  man  in  the  State.  He  is  old 
and  infirm;  you  are  young  and  strong.  He  is 
poor;  you  are  rich  and  increased  in  goods.  He  has 
worked  harder  than  you,  his  morals  are  unim- 
peachable ;  he  has  been  economical  where  you  have 
been  extravagant ;  he  has  a  large  family  to  support ; 
you  are  a  bachelor,  whose  only  sister  is  wealthy  in 
her  own  right.  By  what  law,  human  or  divine,  do 
you  claim  to  be  the  better  man  of  the  two?  " 

"The  comparison  is  of  your  own  making,"  retorted 
Ralph.  "  Answer  the  question  to  suit  yourself." 


Socialism  and  Song        183 

The  reply  was  brushed  aside  as  if  it  were  a  gnat. 

"  Mr.  Meagley,  sir,  has  heard  of  the  great  increase 
of  wealth  likely  to  accrue  to  the  Folger  estate  from 
the  events  of  to-day.  He  came  to  me  to-night,  se- 
cretly, for  fear  of  opposition  from  his  family,  and 
asked  me  to  draw  up  a  paper,  setting  forth  what  I 
have  just  said,  and  memorialising  you  to  allow  him 
a  reasonable  percentage  upon  every  gallon  of  oil 
drawn  from  the  well  reopened  this  forenoon.  He 
waives  his  claims  upon  the  proceeds  of  other  wells.  It 
is  not  right,  in  the  sight  of  the  Maker  of  heaven  and 
earth,  that  one  man  should  have  an  income  far  ex- 
ceeding his  needs,  while  his  brother  starves.  The 
earth  is  the  Lord's  and  the  fulness  thereof.  It  be- 
longs to  one  of  His  creatures  as  much  as  to  another. 

"  I  said  when  we  had  conversed  awhile,  '  Go 
with  me  to  Mr.  Folger's  house,  and  plead  your  right- 
eous cause  with  him,  face  to  face,  as  man  with  his 
fellowman.  I  am  well  acquainted  with  Ruth  Fol- 
ger — ' ' 

"  Drop  that !  "  cut  in  Ralph,  sharply.  "  Don't 
mention  her  again  !  Stick  to  business  !  " 

"  As  you  will !  My  proposition,  as  I  have  stated, 
is  that  you  should  make  some  amends  to  a  worthy, 
industrious,  upright,  high-minded  gentleman  —  " 

"Meaning  him?"  Ralph  nodded  toward  the  ab- 
ject figure,  wiping  his  eyes  with  a  blue  cotton  hand- 
kerchief, and  snivelling  appreciation  of  the  eloquence 
of  his  counsel. 

"  I  refer,  sir,  to  Timothy  Meagley,  Esq. !  He  is, 
I  repeat,  an  honourable,  upright  Christian  gentleman. 
If  justice  were  meted  out  to  him  by  his  fellow-citizens 
and  the  laws  they  make,  he  would  to-night  be  living 
in  as  fine  a  house  as  this,  and  have  an  income  equal 
to  yours.  Who  hath  made  you  to  differ?  " 

"  If  that 's  a  conundrum,  I  may  remark  that  levity 
is  out  of  place  in  such  transactions,"  said  Ralph. 


184  Dr.  Dale 

As  before,  the  gnat  was  unnoticed.  C.  Mather 
Welsh's  hobby  had  the  bit  between  his  teeth.  He 
was  more  hortatory  with  each  period. 

"  Allow  me  to  say  just  here,  Mr.  Folger,  that  he 
represents  hundreds  of  others  who  have  sunk  their 
earthly  all  in  what  has  enriched  you.  I  take  leave, 
moreover,  to  point  out  to  you  the  obvious  propri- 
ety, the  sacred  duty,  of  dividing  with  these  your 
brethren  according  to  the  flesh  —  your  brothers  in  all 
but  good  fortune  —  the  surplus  riches  you  cannot 
spend,  even  in  such  riotous  living  as  I  see  illustrated 
here,"  —  describing  an  expressive  arc  with  a  rhetor- 
ical hand.  "  For  bear  in  mind,  sir,  that  you  have 
gotten  this  great  wealth,  not  by  right,  nor  by  might, 
but  by  —  " 

Ralph  gesticulated  in  his  turn,  — 

"  I  do  hope,"  deprecatingly,  "  that  you  are  not 
going  to  make  more  profane  allusions  !  I  really  have 
scruples  on  that  point.  And  my  friend,  Mr.  Bell,  as 
a  clergyman  shares  my  views." 

John  stepped  forward. 

"  Don't  you  think  we  have  had  enough  of  this, 
Ralph?"  he  said  with  dignity.  "You  will  confer  a 
favour  upon  me  by  listening  quietly  to  Mr.  Welsh 
until  he  has  said  all  he  came  to  say. 

"  Before  you  go  on,  however,  Mr.  Welsh,"  turning 
to  the  orator,  who  was  on  his  feet,  stuttering  in- 
articulately, "  it  is  but  right  for  me  to  remind  you 
of  what  you  must  have  heard,  and  more  than  once. 
Mr.  Folger  has  already  done  all  that  could  be  done, 
in  reason  and  humanity,  for  Mr.  Meagley  and  his 
family.  Mrs.  Meagley  and  her  daughters  would 
have  hindered  him  from  making  this  application,  be- 
cause they  know  what  are  his  obligations  to  Mr.  and 
to  Miss  Folger.  Ask  them  yourself,  if  you  doubt 
my  word  !  " 

Old  Meagley  shuffled  between  the  two  clergymen, 


Socialism  and  Song         185 

kneading  the  blue  handkerchief  with  both  hands, 
grimacing  and  shivering. 

"  Don't  you  do  nothing  o'  the  kind,  Mr.  Welsh !  " 
he  piped  anxiously.  "  They  Ve  all  been  sot  ag'inst 
me  by  this  man  what 's  got  rich  by  stealing  my  ideas 
and  putting  of  'em  to  his  own  wicked  uses.  As  to 
what  he  's  allowed  me  in  part  payment  of  what  he  's 
made  out  of  me,  what's  one  hundred  dollars  a 
month?  What's  two  hundred  dollars  a  month,  es- 
pecially when  it  comes  through  the  women's  hands? 
What 's  even  three  hundred  dollars  a  month,  to  what 
ought  to  be  mine  this  minute?  Hard  cash,  in  my 
own  hands,  to  do  what  I  please  with,  every  cent  of  it ! 

"  Ask  Dr.  Dale,  there,  if  I  did  n't  tell  him,  last 
week,  that  Ralph  Folger  ought  to  give  me  ten  thou- 
sand dollars,  cash  down,  to  start  me  again  in  the 
world?  Talk  about  your  Ruths  and  your  Jumbos! 
I  'd  show  you  a  trick  worth  two  of  both  of  them,  if 
I  could  lay  my  hand  on  that  cool  ten  thousand.  Dr. 
Dale  as  good  as  said  he  'd  let  me  have  it,  —  but  for 
circumstances.  He  's  like  a  son  to  me,  —  Dr.  Dale  is. 

"  Don't  be  scared,  doctor !  "  showing  discoloured 
fangs  and  bluish  gums  in  a  grin,  meaningless  to  the 
lookers-on.  "  I  ain't  going  to  give  you  away" —  for 
Dale  had  him  by  the  arm  and  was  looking  sternly 
into  his  eyes.  "  You  need  n't  be  afraid  I  '11  let  the 
cat  out  o'  th'  bag." 

"  I  am  afraid  of  nothing !  "  said  Dale,  calmly  im- 
pressive, "  except  that  you  will  be  ill  to-morrow 
after  all  this  excitement  Mr.  Folger  will  order  a 
carriage  to  take  you  home.  I  am  going  with  you. 
Mrs.  Meagley  will  miss  you,  and  be  uneasy.  I 
can  slip  you  in  at  the  back-door  without  letting  her 
know  that  you  have  been  out.  We  will  set  Mr. 
Welsh  down  at  his  door  on  the  way.  I  take  it,  he 
has  nothing  more  to  say  to  Mr.  Folger. 

"  Mr.  Folger !  the  ladies  will  be  wondering  where 


i86  Dr.  Dale 

we  are  all  this  time.  Will  you  and  Mr.  Bell  go  to  the 
drawing-room,  and  say  that  I  am  called  out  upon 
professional  business?  I  will  stay  with  these  gentle- 
men, one  of  whom  is  my  patient,  until  the  carriage 
is  ready." 

"  Do  you  imagine,  for  the  fraction  of  a  second, 
sir,  that  I  would  so  far  demean  myself  as  to  accept 
a  seat  in  any  conveyance  belonging  to  that  Extor- 
tioner, that  Robber-of-Widows'  Houses  !  "  burst  out 
the  poor  man's  friend,  fairly  frothing  at  the  mouth 
and  shaking  his  fist  at  Ralph,  as  he  turned  from  the 
door  where  he  was  giving  an  order  to  Arthur.  "  I 
shall  go  as  I  came !  I  shake  the  dust  of  my  feet  off 
upon  this  wicked  house  —  " 

Bell  pulled  Ralph  away  with  him  before  the  fulmi- 
nation  was  finished,  shutting  the  door  as  they  went. 

"  That  poor  devil  of  a  Meagley  ought  to  be  put 
into  an  asylum,"  said  Ralph  in  the  hall.  "  He  '11 
do  mischief  some  day,  if  his  family  don't  look  out. 
The  poor  duffer  would  be  welcome  to  twice  ten 
thousand  dollars,  if  it  would  put  his  brains  back 
where  they  belong." 

As  they  entered  the  drawing-room  they  heard  the 
front  door  close  with  a  concussion  that  shook  the 
windows. 

Fifteen  minutes  later,  a  close  carriage  drew  up  at 
a  side-entrance,  and  Dr.  Dale,  leading  his  patient,  - 
now  whimpering  out  his  dread  lest  Lizy  Ann  should 
discover  his  delinquency,  —  got  into  it  with  him. 

Kate  Meagley  looked  up  brightly,  when  he  re- 
appeared in  the  drawing-room,  less  than  an  hour 
after  his  excuse  was  delivered. 

She  was  having  a  stupid  interlude  to  what  had 
promised  to  be  a  brilliant  evening.  John  Bell  was 
talking  with  Ruth,  presumably  upon  matters  con- 
nected with  the  blue  "  Inasmuch "  book  lying  un- 
opened at  her  side. 


Socialism  and  Song        187 

Myrtle  and  Ralph  were  seated  by  a  table  covered 
with  foreign  photographs,  mainly  of  places  they  had 
visited  together.  They  had  invited  Kate,  civilly, 
to  join  them. 

"  Thanks  !  "  she  said  sweetly.  "  I  do  not  need  any 
more  temptations  than  I  now  have  to  break  the 
Tenth  Commandment.  I  and  my  work-basket  will 
keep  one  another  company." 

The  basket — a  wicker-stand,  beruffled  and  be- 
ribboned  —  was  set  where  Dr.  Dale  must  halt  or 
stumble  over  it  on  his  way  through  the  room.  She 
added  to  her  glance  of  welcome  a  touch  to  a  chair 
near  by. 

"  I  will  detain  you  but  a  minute,"  sotto  voce.  "I 
have  recalled  something  else  that  may  interest  you." 

Myrtle  saw  neither  glance  nor  gesture.  She  did 
see  that  the  confidential  relations  of  the  dinner-table 
were  resumed,  apparently  as  much  to  the  gratification 
of  one  as  of  the  other.  She  could  not  raise  her  eyes 
from  the  photographs  without  seeing  reflected  in  the 
mirror  opposite  a  tableau  vivant  singularly  unpleas- 
ing  to  her.  Kate's  work  lay  neglected  upon  her  lap ; 
as  she  talked,  she  leaned  over  the  gay  little  work- 
stand,  the  gold  thimble  tipping  one  white  finger  a 
glancing  spark  of  light  in  the  energy  of  her  narra- 
tive. Dr.  Dale's  face  was  not  a  foot  away  from  hers. 
His  dark  eyes  questioned ;  hers,  wide  and  earnest, 
replied. 

Ralph  may  have  fancied  that  his  companion  was 
wearying  of  travel-talk.  He  may  have  bethought 
himself  that  Dale  was  having  more  than  his  due 
share  of  Meagleys  for  one  evening.  He  accosted 
him  without  apology  for  the  interruption,  — 

"  Dale  !  is  it  moulting-season?  " 

"  That  depends  upon  the  species,"  rejoined  the 
other,  nonchalantly,  with  no  symptom  of  surprise  at 
the  query. 


i88  Dr.  Dale 

"  Genus,  human.  Species,  Dale,"  said  Ralph,  as 
readily.  "  I  have  n't  heard  you  sing  since  I  got  home. 
Are  you  waiting  for  a  bluebird  accompaniment?  " 

"Does  he  sing?"  exclaimed  Myrtle,  unthinkingly. 

She  set  her  teeth  in  the  tip  of  the  incautious  tongue, 
as  Kate  took  up  the  word, — 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  have  never  heard  him  in 
all  the  weeks  you  have  been  in  the  same  house?  I 
supposed,  now  you  have  a  piano,  you  had  music 
every  evening." 

"  We  do  !  "  replied  Dale,  quietly  emphatic.  "  That 
is  the  reason  I  have  not  offered  to  sing." 

"  We  don't !  "  said  ungallant  Ralph,  oblivious  of 
Miss  Meagley's  much  practising,  to  which  he  could 
not  have  shut  his  ears  on  the  evenings  he  passed 
with  his  sister.  "  That's  the  reason  you  are  going  to 
sing  now." 

The  music-room  opened,  through  a  curtained 
alcove,  into  the  larger  apartment  in  which  they  were 
sitting.  Piano  and  performer  were  plainly  visible  to 
the  group  that  drew  nearer  together  as  the  keys 
awoke  under  a  prelude  played  by  powerful  practised 
fingers.  It  was  simple,  a  few  rich  chords  linked 
by  snatches  of  a  plaintive  melody  that  found  full 
expression  in  a  song  not  one  of  the  auditors  had 
ever  heard, — 

The  stagnant  pool  lies  dark  and  still 

Beneath  the  inky  cloud ; 
The  night-fogs  settle,  dark  and  chill, 

About  me  like  a  shroud. 
The  wind  wails  low,  the  witch-fires  glow 

Athwart  the  black  lagoon ; 
From  sedge-choked  glen  and  lowland  fen 

Rank  vapours  blur  the  moon. 

I  crawl  'mid  slime  and  rotting  ooze, 

In  marshy  brakes  I  hide; 
But  one  dread  Face  I  cannot  lose, 

One  Ghost  creeps  at  my  side. 


Socialism  and  Song        189 

Weird  night-birds  fly  with  eerie  cry, 

Circling  around  my  head, 
While  onward  glides,  nor  quits  my  side, 

The  Memory  of  the  Dead. 

The  black  bat  flits  through  branches  bare, 

Against  the  starless  skies, 
Through  swamp-reek,  on  the  fetid  air 

The  frogs'  rough  croakings  rise. 
By  witch-fires'  light  throughout  the  night, 

I  roam  the  marshy  shore  ; 
While  creeps  with  me  that  Memory 

To  leave  me  —  Nevermore  ! 

The  words  were  perhaps  turgid  rather  than  tragic, 
but  the  air  —  wild,  at  times  almost  discordant, 
breathing  fear  of  death,  dread  of  the  unearthly,  — 
lent  the  song  a  fascination  not  its  own.  The  pure 
articulation  and  apt  emphasis  rendered  the  meaning 
forcefully. 

For  a  moment  after  the  last  chord  died  away, 
nobody  spoke.  The  flexible  voice  and  marvellous 
technique  impressed  the  listeners  even  less  than  did 
the  dramatic,  sympathetic  quality  that  underlay  it. 
It  was  not  a  song  for  a  drawing-room,  or  for  the 
casual  auditor  of  parlour  music.  A  mail-clad  Visigoth 
at  a  village  prayer-meeting  would  have  been  as  much 
in  keeping  with  his  environment.  To  applaud  would 
be  a  solecism.  No  one  thought  of  conventional 
compliment.  The  musician  was  as  mute  as  the 
auditors.  Without  rising,  he  passed  his  fingers  so 
lightly  over  the  keys  as  to  awaken  but  faint  breaths 
of  sound,  like  almost  spent  echoes. 

Ralph  Folger  broke  the  weird  spell,  drawing  in  his 
breath  between  his  teeth  as  one  who  dives  into  cold 
water,  — 

"  I  say,  old  chap  !  don't  do  that  sort  of  thing  again  ! 
It  gives  one  the  horrors !  " 

"You    didn't    like   it,   then?"    Dale    arose    and 


190  Dr.  Dale 

sauntered  back  through  the  arch.  Strange  light  — 
one  might  have  thought  of  triumph  —  shone  in 
the  deep  eyes,  but  he  spoke  carelessly.  "  I  'm 
sorry  you  were  not  amused  by  my  well-meant 
efforts." 

"  Amused  !  Heavens,  man  !  Is  that  your  idea  of 
amusement  ?  One  might  as  well  be  amused  by  a 
thunderstorm  in  the  Alps,  or  moved  to  giggle  by  a 
small-pox  epidemic.  Ugh !  I  can  feel  the  damp, 
and  smell  the  marsh-vapours  yet.  If  you  must  warble 
malarial  songs,  I  wish  you  'd  follow  them  up  with 
an  ode  to  quinine  or  hot  whiskey.  It  might  stave 
off  mental  chills  and  fever.  I  once  heard  of  a 
musical  fellow  who  said  it  always  gave  him  a  head- 
ache to  compose  drinking-songs,  until  a  friend  sug- 
gested he  should  compose  a  bromo-seltzer  with  each 
one." 

Ralph's  ancient  anecdote  called  forth  a  feeble 
laugh,  and  the  tension  relaxed  somewhat.  John 
asked  Kate  Meagley  a  question  about  a  book 
she  had  been  reading  aloud  to  Miss  Folger,  and 
Ralph,  who  had  heard  one  chapter  of  it,  had  a 
well-digested  criticism  ready  that  provoked  a  real 
laugh. 

Dale  stood  by  Myrtle's  chair,  his  hand  on  the  tall 
back.  She  looked  up  at  him. 

"  Where  did  you  get  that  song?  Words  and  music 
are  new  to  me.  I  never  heard  anything  just  like  it  — 
out  of  tragic  opera." 

His  half-smile  was  one  with  the  light  lingering 
in  his  eyes.  When  he  answered,  she  had  the  sense 
of  a  sub-thought  that  abstracted  his  attention  from 
what  he  was  saying : 

"  It  is  a  free  translation  of  verses  written  in  Italian 
by  a  man  named  Barretti.  He  was  an  Italian  noble- 
man who  was  banished  from  his  own  country  for 
some  political  offence.  His  home,  after  that,  was 


Socialism  and  Song        191 

in  New  Orleans.  He  —  he  killed  a  woman,  —  a 
woman  he  loved.  Then  he  fled  to  the  bayous  and 
hid  from  justice  for  several  months.  A  sheriff's  posse 
surrounded  him  in  a  swamp,  and  called  on  him  to 
surrender.  He  laughed  in  their  faces,  and  blew  out 
his  brains.  When  his  body  was  searched  the  verses 
of  that  song  were  found  scrawled  in  pencil  on  the 
back  of  some  envelopes  in  his  pocket,  and  on  blank 
pages  of  the  letters  the  score  of  the  music." 

"  What  a  strange,  awfully  sad  story !  Where  were 
the  verses  printed?  " 

"  They  were  never  printed.  They  came  into  my 
possession  in  a  roundabout  way,  years  ago.  The 
papers  were  passed  over  to  Barretti's  son.  I  suspect 
he  had  little  besides  from  the  father.  When  he  grew 
up,  he  translated  the  doggerel  and  put  the  music 
into  shape.  I  knew  him  fairly  well  at  one  time. 
I  had  the  story,  the  song,  and  the  music  from  him, 
poor  fellow  !  " 

Ralph  was  on  the  war-path  again.  As  Dale  uttered 
the  last  words,  the  restless  little  man  laid  a  hand 
upon  the  doctor's  arm,  — 

"  Now  you  're  not  harping  upon  that  blasted  ballad 
of  ague,  nightmare,  and  murder  still,  are  you? 
You  're  morbid,  old  man  !  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  was  never  less  morbid  in  my 
life  than  at  the  present  moment,"  giving  his  friend 
the  benefit  of  his  brightest  smile.  "  What  can  I  do 
to  prove  it?  " 

"  Sing  a  normal,  up-to-date  love  song,  to  wash  the 
swamp-mud  out  of  our  imaginations.  Something 
tender  and  thrilling  —  " 

"And  trashy?"  subjoined  Dale,  still  smiling,  as  he 
went  back  to  the  music-room. 

A  dashing,  tripping  air,  as  tuneful  and  as  shallow 
as  the  carol  of  a  cage-bred  canary,  trilled  through  the 
rooms ;  then  the  up-to-date  song,  — 


192  Dr.  Dale 

I  said  her  face  so  fair, 

With  its  crown  of  sun-kissed  hair 

Golden-brown, 
Far  eclipsed  the  light  of  day 
When  the  quick'ning  sun  of  May 

Flashes  down ; 

That  her  eyes  of  tender  blue 
Would  outshine  the  heavens'  hue 

In  their  light. 

But  she  would  n't  understand, 
Vowed  my  praise  was  second-hand, 

And  so  trite  ! 

Yet  across  the  sunset  skies 
Roseate  flushes  seemed  to  rise, 

All  astir 

With  the  joy  the  heavens  shared 
That  their  light  could  be  compared 

Thus  to  her  ! 

"  That 's  something  like  !  "  cried  Ralph,  leading  the 
applause. 

And  Kate  Meagley,  as  Dr.  Dale  helped  her  collect 
the  rolling  spools  from  the  wicker  work-stand,  tipped 
over  by  an  incautious  movement  right  across  his 
track  as  he  approached  her,  — 

"  Your  versatility  is  a  continual  surprise,  even  to 
me,  who  ought  to  know  you  '  fairly  well '  by  this  time." 

From  which  sugary  speech  he  guessed,  whether 
she  meant  him  to  do  it  or  not,  that  she  had  over- 
heard part  of  the  story  of  song,  author,  and 
translator. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

A  BRACE  OF  SURPRISES 

"  Heaven  has  no  rage  like  love  to  hatred  turned, 
Nor  hell  a  fury  like  a  woman  scorned." 


morning  sunshine  lay  in  a  broad  band 
across  the  floor  of  Dr.  Dale's  inner  office. 
In  the  centre  of  the  golden  track  sat  Eg- 
bert Dale. 

The  lines  about  his  eyes  and  mouth  were 
wondrously  softened,  and  the  light  on  his  face  was 
not  all  from  the  sun.  It  was  one  of  the  rare  moments 
when  the  soul  of  a  dreamer  —  ingenuous,  sanguine, 
loving  —  looked  from  the  eyes  of  the  reserved  man 
of  the  world.  In  his  hand  he  held  a  tiny  square 
of  sheer  cambric,  turning  it  over  with  tender  touches. 
The  light  striking  through  it  showed  a  monogram  in 
one  corner,  —  M.  B.,  wrought  in  delicate  embroidery. 
A  knock  at  the  door  brought  him  to  his  feet  with 
a  guilty  start.  He  thrust  the  handkerchief  into  an 
inner  breast-pocket,  and  strode  through  the  outer 
office  to  the  front  entrance. 

It  was  the  impersonal,  dignified  physician  of  office 
hours  who  stood  face  to  face  with  Kate  Meagley 
upon  the  threshold. 

The  very  calm  of  his  impenetrable  visage  sent  a 
queer  pang  through  the  girl  as  she  returned  his  greet- 
ing, and  passed,  at  his  request,  into  the  general  office. 
Dale  stood  aside  to  let  her  enter,  then  followed. 
She  had  broken  in  upon  his  reverie,  and  he  was 
vaguely  resentful. 

"  I  hope  Miss  Folger  is  no  worse  for  yesterday's 
excitement?  "  he  said. 

13 


194  Dr.  Dale 

"  Not  at  all !  "  briskly  and  brightly.  "  Indeed,  she 
does  not  admit  that  she  was  excited.  I  never  saw 
such  self-possession.  My  nerves  felt  the  strain,  dear 
Aunt  Sarepta  was  quite  overcome,  and  one  might 
almost  have  fancied  that  Miss  Bell's  own  future  pros- 
pects were  concerned  in  the  success  of  the  blast,  from 
the  intense  way  she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  Mr. 
Raph.  She  has  such  a  sympathetic  temperament !  " 
she  made  haste  to  add,  the  doctor's  impassive  de- 
meanour discouraging  further  particulars. 

"  I  am  glad  Miss  Folger  was  n't  overtired,"  a  trifle 
stiffly.  "  I  was  afraid,  when  I  saw  you,  that  she 
might  not  be  as  well  as  she  promised  last  night  to  be. 
But  —  " 

"  But "  —  taking  the  word  from  his  mouth  —  "  you 
are  wondering,  in  that  case,  why  I  am  breaking  in 
upon  your  precious  time.  Now  confess !  Are  n't 
you?"' 

Her  tone  was  laboriously  playful.  It  "  took  "  with 
the  Pitvalian  masculinity  of  a  certain  type.  She  had 
tried  it  before,  with  lamentable  ill-success,  upon  Dr. 
Dale.  Man  at  large  (represented  by  a  provincial's 
experience)  she  looked  upon  as  a  Marriageable  Ani- 
mal whose  heart  was  an  organ.  Upon  this  instrument 
any  mistress  of  the  fine  arts  of  coquetry  and  so-called 
badinage  could  play  if  she  kept  a  steady  head.  Dr. 
Dale  responded  to  none  of  her  tests  thus  far.  She 
had  begun  by  seeing  in  him  a  rising  physician  who 
might  prove  an  excellent  match  for  the  middle  daugh- 
ter of  the  house  of  Meagley.  With  this  idea  she  had 
opened  her  campaign,  marshalling  her  forces  accord- 
ing to  tactics  learned  from  novels  and  other  women's 
love  stories. 

Failing  to  secure  even  a  second  glance  from  the 
eyes  that  looked  so  tranquil  and  were  so  deep,  she 
fell  to  studying  the  unimpressionable  being  more 
closely.  Then  she  saw  that  he  was  unlike  any 


A  Br  ace  of  Surprises      195 

man  she  had  heretofore  known.  He  met  every  re- 
quirement set  up  by  her  novel-trained  brain  for  a 
young  girl's  ideal,  and  added  several  new  and  bewil- 
deringly  fascinating  qualities  to  the  model.  His  face 
and  form  she  likened  to  the  much-abused  Greek 
god's ;  his  voice  was  rich  music ;  he  talked  well  and 
oftentimes  wittily;  his  presence  carried  force.  He 
mastered  men  and  was  admired  by  women.  His  in- 
difference to  herself  first  angered,  then  enthralled  her. 

In  brief,  Kate  Meagley  had  grown  to  love  Egbert 
Dale  as  only  a  narrow,  self-centred  woman  can  love. 

It  frightened  as  well  as  puzzled  her,  —  this  unique 
passion.  It  was  so  utterly  foreign  to  the  rest  of  her 
nature.  The  force  of  it  would  long  since  have  swept 
her  off  her  feet  but  for  the  utter  unconsciousness  of 
the  object  of  her  devotion.  As  it  was,  she  held 
adoration  in  check  by  an  effort  that  irritated  and  at 
last  wore  her  out.  Her  pride  revolted  at  the  cheap 
pretexts  she  made  use  of  to  secure  even  five  minutes 
of  Dale's  society.  She  was  not  strong  enough  to  re- 
sist the  temptation. 

"  Confess !  "  she  repeated,  with  a  pitiful  effort  at 
raillery.  "You  wonder  what  should  bring  me  here 
when  Ruth  does  not  need  your  services,  and  I  have 
nothing  new  to  report  of  her.  Well !  I  '11  put  you 
out  of  your  suspense.  I  came  here  to  consult  you 
about  a  much  less  interesting  person.  I  mean 
myself." 

"  You  are  not  ill,  I  hope  ?  You  're  looking  very 
well." 

The  professional  visor  was  closed  ;  the  profes- 
sional armour  had  no  open  joint.  What  she  chose  to 
tell  he  would  hear.  He  would  not  question  without 
a  clue. 

"  It 's  my  heart,  I  think."  Her  embarrassment  was 
natural,  but  not  becoming.  "  It  runs  in  the  family, — 
heart-trouble  does.  Some  months  ago  I  went  to  a 


196  Dr.  Dale 

specialist  in  Philadelphia.  Ruth  would  make  me  see 
him.  He  said  there  was  '  functional  irregularity,' 
whatever  that  may  mean,"  trying  to  laugh.  "  I  sup- 
pose you,  being  a  doctor,  can  translate  his  terms. 
He  said  I  must  be  careful  about  running  upstairs,  and 
things  like  that,  you  know.  But  lately  it 's  been 
worse.  I  don't  like  to  worry  Ruth  by  talk  of  my 
grievances  and  bad  feelings.  So  I  came  here  on  the 
sly.  Perhaps  you  would  n't  mind  listening  to  my 
heart  and  telling  me  if  there  really  is  anything  serious 
the  matter  with  it  ?  " 

"  Let  me  feel  your  pulse,  first,  please !  "  said  the 
doctor,  gravely. 

The  firm  touch  of  his  fingers  thrilled  her  like  a 
slight  electric  shock.  Her  pulse  was  wiry,  rapid, 
irregular.  It  puzzled  Dale,  who,  being  the  least 
conceited  of  mortals,  had  not  the  faintest  suspicion  as 
to  the  true  cause  of  the  arterial  eccentricity. 

"  I  would  better  listen  to  the  heart,"  he  said.  "  If 
you  will  step  into  the  inner  office  —  " 

Kate  had  told  the  truth  concerning  her  visit  to  the 
Philadelphia  specialist.  He  was  fatherly ;  he  was 
bald-headed  and  red-faced.  She  had  felt  little  or  no 
embarrassment  in  undergoing  the  cardiac  examina- 
tion. Dr.  Dale,  though  equally  impersonal,  with  the 
same  machine-like  professionalism,  was  a  different 
creature  altogether.  She  blushed  redly  at  the  sug- 
gested auscultation.  Then  she  steeled  herself  for 
the  ordeal.  It  was  a  step  gained  to  have  him  in- 
terested in  her  case. 

Without  a  word,  she  inclined  her  head  slightly  and 
went  into  the  other  room.  Dr.  Dale  followed  her 
some  minutes  later.  She  had  had  time  to  make  the 
needful  preparations.  She  had  had  time,  also,  to 
grow  intensely  nervous. 

"  Now,  if  you  are  ready,  Miss  Meagley,"  said  Dale, 
carelessly. 


A  Brace  of  Surprises       197 

Approaching  her,  as  he  might  an  automaton,  he 
put  his  left  arm  around  her,  the  hand  resting  beneath 
her  left  shoulder-blade.  "  Stand  perfectly  still,  and 
breathe  normally,  if  you  please,"  he  went  on,  his  ear 
applied,  now  to  the  centre  of  her  bared  chest,  now 
pressed  above  the  auricular  valves,  then  over  the 
apex  of  the  heart. 

In  a  tremor  of  bashfulness  Kate  Meagley  glanced 
downward. 

The  broad  band  of  sunshine  touched  Dale's  bowed 
head,  making  lustrous  the  stippling  of  silver  in  his 
dark  hair,  and  bringing  out  the  sculptured  outlines  of 
the  beautiful  head  into  clear  relief.  The  light,  strong 
hold  of  the  arm  about  her  waist,  the  occasional  touch 
of  his  cheek  or  hair,  were  as  strong  wine  to  the  girl's 
love-touched  brain. 

And  then  Kate  Meagley  did  what  she  was  never 
to  forget  or  to  forgive  herself  for,  —  something  she 
could  never  explain  in  long  vigils  of  anguished  self- 
contempt,  during  which  she  rehearsed  to  her  writhing 
soul  every  detail  of  the  horror  and  the  shame. 

A  tense  chord  snapped  in  her  brain.  The  flood- 
gates were  down. 

With  one  convulsive  motion  she  gathered  the  bent 
head  in  her  arms,  crushing  it  with  unnatural  force  in 
a  wild  embrace  and  gasping,  — 

"  Oh,  I  love  you  !  I  love  you  !  My  king !  I  adore 
you  !  " 

It  was  over  in  a  second. 

Dale  had  shaken  his  head  free,  and  stood,  gazing 
wide-eyed,  in  amazed  disgust,  at  the  trembling  girl. 
Her  face  was  buried  in  her  hands,  and  her  slender 
form  was  shaken  by  a  storm  of  dry  sobs. 

They  stood  thus  for  perhaps  half  a  minute,  the  band 
of  sunshine  lying  like  a  bar  of  gold  between  them. 

"  Oh,  how  could  I !  Oh  the  shame  —  the  shame 
of  it !  "  she  moaned,  at  last,  brokenly. 


198  Dr.  Dale 

Dale  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  into  the  outer 
office,  leaving  her  to  readjust  her  bodice.  When  she 
appeared  in  the  doorway,  downcast  and  shaken,  he 
did  not  look  at  her;  his  tone  was  frigid. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  "  you  would  better  consult  the 
Philadelphia  specialist  again.  I  shall  not  be  able  to 
take  charge  of  the  case." 

The  dispassionate  formula  fell  upon  her  horror- 
stricken  spirit  like  vitriol.  She  opened  her  dry  lips 
to  utter  protest  or  plea,  but  before  she  could  speak, 
a  knock  sounded  upon  the  outer  door. 

Dale  answered  it,  and  the  Rev.  C.  Mather  Welsh 
pushed,  uninvited,  past  him  into  the  office. 

"  You  '11  excuse  my  haste  !  "  he  said  curtly.  "  I  'm 
in  a  great  hurry  this  morning,  and  have  only  a  mo- 
ment to  spare." 

"  May  I  suggest,"  remarked  the  doctor,  "  that  you 
might  have  spared  that  moment  to  advantage  in 
asking  if  I  were  disengaged  ?  " 

Kate  Meagley  had  retreated  to  the  inner  room  at 
the  knock,  and  a  glimpse  of  her  red,  tear-stained  face 
in  a  mirror  made  her  shrink  into  a  corner.  Welsh 
must  not  see  her  like  this. 

The  clergyman  glanced  around  the  office,  as  if  to 
make  sure  there  was  no  one  else  there. 

"  I  came  to  speak  to  you  about  old  Mrs.  Belden  in 
Elm  Street,  No.  59,"  he  began.  "  I  went  there  this 
morning,  and  found  she  had  had  a  stroke  of  paralysis. 
Her  daughter  begged  me  to  go  at  once  for  Dr.  Dale ; 
that  is  why  I  am  here ;  that  is  why  I  did  not  stop  to 
ask  if  you  were  disengaged.  I  am  too  busy  in  the 
Master's  service  to  observe  all  the  niceties  of  social 
forms  observed  by  you  —  " 

"  And  some  millions  of  other  decent  people !  "  in- 
terpolated the  physician,  cuttingly. 

Welsh  was  his  bete  noir  at  all  times,  and  his  temper 
just  now  was  excoriated  by  the  recent  incident. 


A  Brace  of  Surprises       199 

As  a  valiant  member  of  the  church  militant,  Welsh 
struck  back,  and  instantly,  — 

"  And  which  you  have  been  taught  to  expect  by 
such  tutors  as  Mr.  Bell  and  the  woman  he  is  passing 
off  as  his  sister  — 

"  What!"  thundered  Dale,  quivering  with  rage 
and  advancing  toward  the  speaker. 

The  little  figure  in  soiled  threadbare  black  did  not 
flinch.  The  watery,  red-rimmed  eyes  did  not  quail 
before  the  blazing  orbs  that  challenged  him ;  he  even 
smiled  acridly. 

"  This  show  of  indignation  does  you  credit,  Dr. 
Dale !"  he  sneered,  "or  it  would  if  it  were  at  all 
sincere.  I  suppose  what  men  of  your  stamp  call 
'  honour '  obliges  you  to  defend  her,  and  as  long  as 
Bell  is  not  jealous,  it  is  no  affair  of  mine." 

"  Go  !  "  whispered  Dale. 

His  face  was  grayish-white  and  perfectly  calm,  but 
he  seemed  to  have  lost  the  power  of  speech.  His 
lips  did  not  move  as  the  monosyllable  left  them.  He 
pointed  to  the  door  with  a  steady  hand. 

Kate  Meagley,  whose  very  existence  he  had  for- 
gotten in  this  new  crisis,  looked  on  from  the  inner 
room.  For  the  time  she  worshipped  the  man  who 
had  forced  her  to  disgrace  herself. 

'•  He  'd  strike  the  little  fool  dead  if  'twas  n't  for  his 
clerical  coat,"  she  thought.  "He  is  magnificent !" 

Welsh  had  expected  an  onslaught  of  some  sort, 
and  braced  himself  to  bear  it  like  a  Christian  martyr 
who  dares  to  suffer  for  the  truth.  Dale's  seeming 
apathy  was  a  problem.  He  had  heard  that  men  of 
the  world  were  different  from  this.  He  felt  a  certain 
relieved  contempt  for  the  doctor. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied  sardonically,  "  I  will  go.  I 
do  not  wonder  that  you  were  disposed  to  resent  my 
honest  words  concerning  your  coadjutor's  mis — " 

The  speech  ended  in  a  gurgle. 


200  Dr.  Dale 

Dale  had  put  out  one  hand,  seized  him  by  the 
throat,  crushing  the  dirty  clerical  collar  into  the  un- 
shaven neck,  and  had  swung  him  clear  of  the  floor. 
With  the  open  palm  of  the  other  hand  he  struck 
Welsh's  distorted  face  once  —  twice  —  thrice  !  Then, 
shaking  him  on  the  way  until  the  lean  arms  and 
legs  wobbled  like  those  of  a  badly  strung  marionette, 
he  bore  the  wriggling  victim  to  the  front  porch  and 
dropped  him  gently  down  the  short  flight  of  steps 
leading  to  the  street. 

Turning  about  without  waiting  to  note  the  effect 
of  the  fall,  he  closed  the  door  behind  him,  re-entered 
his  office,  went  at  once  to  a  screened-off  corner  of 
the  room,  and  washed  his  hands  vigorously. 

This  done,  he  picked  up  his  hat  and  a  black 
satchel,  preparatory  to  visiting  paralytic  Mrs.  Belden. 

He  was  half-way  to  the  stricken  woman's  house 
before  his  head  cleared,  and  he  recollected  that  he 
had  left  Kate  Meagley  in  his  inner  office. 

The  Middle  Miss  Meagley — her  momentary  ex- 
citement over  the  medico-clerical  controversy  giving 
place  once  more  to  the  gnawing  shame  that  devoured 
her  —  walked,  as  in  a  dream,  from  the  deserted 
rooms  and  bent  her  steps  mechanically  toward  the 
Folger  house. 

At  any  other  time  a  scene  such  as  she  had  wit- 
nessed between  the  two  men  would  have  sent  her, 
hot-foot,  through  the  town,  beginning  with  her 
mother  and  sisters,  regaling  them  and  other  choice 
spirits  with  the  story,  and  shining  in  reflected  glory 
as  the  sole  spectator  of  the  fray. 

No  better  idea  of  her  present  state  of  mind  could 
be  given  than  by  saying  that  the  quarrel  and  Dale's 
attack  had  left  her  thoughts  utterly.  Those  same 
thoughts  were  stretched  upon  the  most  terrible  tor- 
ture-apparatus known  in  all  the  annals  of  Pain,  —  the 
rack  of  Self-loathing. 


A  Brace  of  Surprises      201 

That  she,  Kate  Meagley,  —  most  fastidious  of  five 
ultra-modest  sisters;  model  (self-constituted)  of  Pit- 
vale  femininity;  Propriety's  doughty  champion  — 
that  she  should  have  been  guilty  of  an  action  which 
now  luridly  recurred  to  her  as  though  it  were  the 
deed  of  an  absolute  and  most  objectionable  stranger, 
—  was  an  awful  Horror. 

It  is  natural,  in  moments  of  extreme  self-contempt, 
to  put  out  desperate  hands  and  drag  the  nearest  out- 
sider down  into  the  depths  with  us.  Happy  those  of 
us  who  can  go  so  far  as  to  leave  the  hapless  fallen 
vicarious  sufferer  writhing  there,  and  ourselves  rise 
to  the  brink,  thence  to  glare  down  in  disgust — or 
better  still,  in  hatred  —  at  him.  If  we  can  trace  to 
him,  by  any  tortuous  course  of  logic,  some  part  or  lot 
in  our  misfortune,  we  are  trebly  comforted.  Then 
loathing  has  another  object,  and  no  longer  turns  in- 
ward upon  ourselves. 

Kate  Meagley,  from  solitary  self-contempt,  began, 
unconsciously  at  first,  to  shift  the  blame  upon  Egbert 
Dale.  But  for  him  this  unspeakable  Thing  would 
not  have  been.  He  could  have  averted  it  —  or  when 
it  happened  could  have  given  a  different  complexion 
to  the  incident,  swollen  in  the  retrospect  into  a  ca- 
lamity. He  must  have  guessed  in  part  —  he  must 
have  foreseen ! 

What  a  brute  he  was  —  what  a  cur  —  to  permit  her 
thus  to  degrade  herself!  All  the  traditions  of  home 
and  family  mustered  to  the  aid  of  the  rising  belief  in 
herself  as  the  prey  of  a  wicked  man's  arts. 

Lighter  grew  her  self-hatred;  fiercer  burned  the 
glow  of  malevolence  toward  the  witness  —  and  the 
cause  —  of  her  humiliation.  She  dug  her  nails  into 
her  palms  as  she  walked ;  the  murmur  that  broke 
from  her  tormented  soul  was  a  hiss,  — 

"  Oh,  to  get  even  with  him !  to  humble  him  as  he 
has  humbled  me  !  " 


202  Dr.  Dale 

Beautiful  was  lonely. 

His  mistress  was  writing  letters,  and  for  some 
occult  reason  objected  to  being  kissed  and  having 
perfectly  clean  paws  laid  upon  her  lap  while  thus 
engaged. 

John  Bell,  the  next  most  desirable  comrade,  was 
out  on  pastoral  visits,  and  had  inexcusably  forgotten 
to  invite  Beautiful  to  go  with  him.  Dr.  Dale,  too, 
was  absent.  As  a  jack-at-a-pinch,  the  sedate  phy- 
sician was  not  amiss.  Thomas  Jefferson,  under  Mrs. 
Bowersox's  ponderous  guidance,  was  climbing  the 
ladder  of  learning  by  means  of  a  wretched  little  vol- 
ume, entitled  Reading  without  Tears,  the  blistered 
pages  giving  the  name  the  lie  direct.  Mrs.  Bowersox 
had  mildly  but  firmly  banished  Beautiful  from  the 
nursery  during  this  penitential  hour,  precedent  hav- 
ing taught  her  that  the  versatile  Jeffs  mind  would 
otherwise  bend  toward  natural  history  rather  than 
toward  the  book  with  the  lying  title. 

Beautiful,  temporarily  robbed  of  human  society, 
was  thrown  upon  his  own  resources  for  entertainment. 
At  first  this  did  not  seem  such  an  evil  case.  He  had 
espied  in  the  garden  a  cat  —  a  friendly  cat  with  whom 
he  was  usually  upon  comfortable  terms  —  and 
dashed  at  her  melodramatically,  barking  with  rever- 
berant ferocity,  ruffling  up  the  golden-red  hair  all 
along  his  spine,  as  was  his  custom  when  on  murder 
bent. 

Pussy  had  bided  his  coming  valorously,  in  the 
middle  of  a  grassy  plat,  had  scratched  his  nose  with 
virulence  utterly  uncalled  for,  and  then  fled,  in  simu- 
lated dread  and  with  bloated  tail,  up  a  tree,  from  the 
branches  of  which  she  peered  down  upon  the  irate 
dog  in  hypocritical  and  surpriseful  reproach. 

Balked  of  his  natural  sport,  Beautiful,  after  barking 
as  long  as  the  occasion  seemed  to  demand,  wandered 
off  in  quest  of  fresh  adventures. 


A  Brace  of  Surprises      203 

He  feigned  for  a  while  to  see  lurking  dangers  in 
outhouses  and  shrubbery,  walking  past  them  on  the 
tips  of  his  toes,  back  bristling  and  tail  rigidly  hori- 
zontal, the  while  emitting  deep,  threatening  growls 
for  the  benefit  of  theoretical  hidden  marauders. 

This  diversion  palling  upon  him,  he  went  back  to 
the  front  porch,  where  he  flung  himself  weariedly  on 
the  door-mat.  From  this  vantage-ground  his  eyes 
could  sweep  the  road  as  far  as  Presto  Corner,  and  up 
and  down  the  hill  into  the  town. 

Suddenly  his  feathery  tail  arose  and  struck  the 
porch-floor  with  a  resounding  thump,  repeated  sev- 
eral times  with  emphasis.  His  ears  were  cocked; 
the  light  of  welcome  shone  in  his  big  topaz  eyes. 
Along  the  road,  evidently  bound  for  the  farmhouse, 
plodded  a  woman  in  a  fawn-coloured  costume.  Beau- 
tiful did  not  wholly  approve  of  the  Middle  Miss 
Meagley.  He  was  far  from  numbering  her  among 
his  nearest  and  dearest.  Still  a  visit  from  any  one 
was  a  boon  to  a  bored  dog. 

He  writhed  down  the  steps  to  meet  her  as  she  en- 
tered the  grounds.  Then  the  instinct  of  hospitality 
asserted  itself.  He  had  neglected  to  get  his  custom- 
ary votive  offering.  A  rapid  and  dismayed  survey 
of  the  premises  failed  to  provide  stick  or  stone  of 
convenient  size,  or  so  much  as  an  eligible  dead  leaf. 
He  sped  back  into  the  hallway,  through  the  door 
which  was  ajar,  in  quest  of  an  overshoe  or  a  hat. 
The  place  was  as  bare  as  Mother  Hubbard's  cupboard. 
He  was  on  the  brink  of  despair,  when  he  saw  the 
corner  of  a  yellow  envelope  projecting  over  the  edge 
of  the  hall  table.  Springing  up,  he  caught  it  in  his 
mouth  and  rushed  out  in  time  to  intercept  Miss 
Meagley  in  the  gravel  walk. 

The  girl  paid  scant  heed  to  the  greeting  of  the 
transmogrified  Marquis.  She  glanced  listlessly  at 
him,  said  dully  "  Good  dog !  "  and  was  passing  on, 


204  Dr.  Dale 

when  the  envelope  in  his  mouth  arrested  her  eyes. 
It  looked  like  a  telegram.  She  stooped  to  disengage 
it  from  Beautiful's  jaws. 

"  A  telegram,  and  not  opened ! "  she  said,  half 
aloud.  "  It  must  have  been  left  in  the  hall  by  one  of 
those  careless  messenger  boys.  I  '11  put  it  back." 

The  envelope  was  slightly  torn  by  the  jerk  that  had 
wrested  it  from  the  dog's  teeth.  Kate  read  the  ad- 
dress :  "  Dr.  Egbert  Dale." 

She  glanced  furtively  around.  Nobody  was  in 
sight.  Screened  by  a  clump  of  evergreens,  she 
pulled  the  folded  message  through  the  tear  in  the 
envelope.  She  was  in  no  haste.  She  had  come  on 
an  errand  from  Ruth  Folger  to  Mrs.  Bowersox  —  un- 
willingly —  but  she  dared  not  provoke  remark  by  re- 
fusing. There  was  no  risk  of  finding  Dr.  Dale  at 
home  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  She  would 
have  a  look  at  the  despatch,  tuck  it  back  through  the 
rent,  and  throw  the  blame  where  it  belonged,  upon  the 
meddlesome,  spoiled  household  pet. 

She  read  the  message.  When  she  reached  the 
signature,  her  jaw  dropped  from  sheer  amazement. 
Then  it  closed  with  a  sharp  click;  an  odd  light 
gleamed  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  '11  keep  this  !  "  she  said  deliberately,  thrusting 
envelope  and  despatch  into  the  bosom  of  her  gown. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

"  SO   HELP  ME,   GOD  !  " 
And  a  little  child  shall  lead  them." 

JEFFERSON   was   under  sus- 


Ipicion. 
His  mother  had  discovered,  at  breakfast 
time,  that  Dr.  Dale  had  not  had  a  telegram 
she   had   laid    on   the    hall   table  at  three 
o'clock  of  the  preceding   afternoon.     Since   neither 
Anneke  nor  Gretchen  had  touched  it,  it  "  stood  to 
reason,"  according  to  the  maternal  logic,  that  Jeff  had 
made  away  with  it. 

Without  intermitting  his  breakfast,  the  small  sinner 
hearkened  to  accusation  and  exhortation  in  stolid 
composure,  until  Myrtle  Bell  offered  a  disclaimer: 

"  The  wind  may  have  blown  it  to  the  floor  and  out 
of  the  door,  Mrs.  Bowersox ;  I  don't  think  Jeff  would 
say  he  had  not  taken  it  if  he  had !  " 

"  I  wish  I  could  think  so,  Miss  Bell !  But  children 
are  not  always  as  careful  to  speak  the  truth  as  they 
should  be,  poor  little  dears !  Nor,  for  that  matter, 
are  some  grown  people.  I  have  said,  a  thousand 
times,  if  I  've  said  it  once,  that  if  there  is  one  sin 
I  dread  as  I  do  rank  poison,  it  is  lying,  or  trifling  the 
leastest  little  bit  with  the  truth." 

"Think,  Jeff!"  said  Myrtle,  persuasively,  to  her 
prottgt.  "  Did  you  play  with  any  papers  —  any  let- 
ters or  envelopes  —  yesterday?  What  were  you  do- 
ing after  you  finished  your  afternoon  reading,  until 
you  were  called  in  to  your  supper  ? " 

The  child's  great  blue  eyes  were  introspective ;  a 
look  of  intensest  solemnity  stole  into  them  and  over 


206  Dr.  Dale 

his  cherubic  visage.  He  put  his  hands  into  his  lap 
and  under  the  table  as  he  had  been  trained  to  do 
when  grace  was  said. 

"  I  fink,"  he  enunciated  slowly,  —  "I  'most  fink  I 
must  have  burned  it  up  when  I  'sploded  my  Wufe 
well  in  the  garden.  That  was  when  I  burned  my 
fingers,"  holding  up  a  pink  thumb  and  forefinger, 
each  tipped  with  a  round  white  blister. 

"Jeff!  "  His  mother  elevated  holy  hands  of  hor- 
ror. "  How  often  must  I  tell  you  never  to  touch  a 
letter  that  doesn't  belong  to  you?  And  none  of 
them  ever  do  !  And  how  naughty  it  is  for  little  boys, 
poor  dears!  to  play  with  matches?  And  do  you 
know  it  is  awfully  wrong  to  burn  a  telegram  ?  There 's 
no  telling  what  may  happen  to  Dr.  Dale  because  of 
your  meddling.  Some  poor,  dear  woman,  or,  for  all 
you  know,  a  poor  dear  little  boy  no  bigger  than  you, 
may  be  badly  burned  with  oil,  or  very  sick,  or  some- 
thing; and  they  couldn't  get  the  doctor  when  they 
sent  for  him,  and  poor,  dear  Dr.  Dale  not  knowing 
anything  about  it,  because  a  naughty  boy  took  the 
telegram  off  the  table  where  his  poor  mother  laid  it, 
never  dreaming,  poor  thing !  that  her  son  would  n't 
mind  what  he  had  been  told. 

"  I  declare,"  to  the  party  at  large,  "  it  is  harder 
every  day  I  live  for  me  to  realise  that  child  !  I  don't 
see  where  he  gets  his  meddlesome  tricks  from !  " 

Jeff's  lip  quivered ;  he  swallowed  hard  to  get  the 
upper  hand  of  a  nasty  knot  in  his  windpipe.  He 
must  choose  between  a  cry  and  a  swagger. 

He  swaggered. 

"  Oh,  well !  "  in  the  most  mannish  tone  he  could 
manufacture,  one  that  broke  at  the  end  in  spite  of  his 
pluck,  "  I  fink,  maybe,  they  '11  send  another  telegrand. 
I  would  n't  wowwy  if  I  was  you,  Dr.  Dale.  Mamma, 
may  I  please  have  one  more  cake  ?  With  a  good  deal 
of  syrup  on  it?" 


"So  Help  Me,  God!"       207 

"Imperturbability?"  queried  John,  of  the  two  di- 
verted listeners. 

"  Bluff!  "  answered  Dr.  Dale,  laconically. 

And  Myrtle,  —  "  The  shower  is  not  far  off.  Change 
the  subject,  or  lift  language  above  his  comprehension. 
Is  it  likely  that  serious  inconvenience  will  result  from 
the  transgression?" 

Dale  shook  his  head. 

"  Perhaps  yes ;  perhaps  no  !  The  juvenile  philos- 
opher may  be  right  in  supposing  that  the  message 
will  be  duplicated.  If  nothing  reaches  me  by  noon, 
I  will  call  at  the  telegraph  office  and  ask  for  a  copy. 
I  have  not  time  to  see  to  it  this  morning;  I  am  fear- 
fully rushed  with  work.  Will  you  excuse  me,  Mrs. 
Bowersox?  " 

"  I  '11  go  to  the  office  for  you,"  said  John. 

In  rising  from  table  the  doctor  patted  his  friend's 
shoulder  gratefully. 

"  No,  thank  you,  old  man !  It  is  probably  of  more 
consequence  to  the  sender  than  to  me,  so  he'll  try 
again.  And  a  doctor's  telegrams  are  sometimes 
confidential.  Don't  expect  me  to  dinner,  Mrs. 
Bowersox.  Good-morning  to  you  all ! " 

The  sun  was  down,  and  Mrs.  Bowersox  was  light- 
ing the  hall-lamp  when  a  latch-key  clicked  in  the 
door,  and  Dr.  Dale  appeared.  As  he  took  off  his 
hat  she  saw  that  he  was  pale  and  evidently  weary, 
but  his  smile  was  pleasant;  he  spoke  cheerfully. 

"  Good-evening !  "  he  said.  "  Has  Jeff  gone  to 
bed  ?  And  in  how  many  pieces  ?  " 

"  He  's  been  in  bed  this  half-hour,  doctor.  You  're 
very  kind  to  ask  after  him.  I  've  kept  his  sin  well 
before  him  all  day.  There  's  no  telling  what  would 
have  happened  to  him  if  Miss  Bell  hadn't  taken  his 
part  and  begged  me  —  when  he  wasn't  by,  of  course 
—  to  let  up  on  him.  You  may  depend  upon  his  not 
touching  any  more  of  your  telegrams." 


208  Dr.  Dale 

A  queer  something  that  was  neither  shadow  nor 
gleam  flitted  over  the  doctor's  face.  He  moved 
toward  the  nursery  door  at  the  back  of  the  hall. 

"  May  I  look  in  upon  him  and  speak  to  him  if  he 
is  not  asleep  ?  " 

"Surely!" 

Myrtle  had  heard  Mrs.  Bowersox  leave  the  nursery 
and  go  off  in  the  direction  of  the  kitchen  after  Jeff 
was  put  to  bed.  Then  she  seized  the  opportunity 
to  pay  him  one  of  the  surreptitious  visits  in  which 
both  delighted.  She  had  discovered,  long  ago,  that 
the  boy  often  lay  awake  in  the  dark  for  an  hour  or 
more  after  the  word  had  gone  forth  that  he  must 
"go  to  sleep  like  a  good  boy,  and  not  think." 

The  thinking  was  what  kept  the  large  brain  active 
when  lumpish  urchins  of  his  age  were  snoring. 
Myrtle  had  found  him,  once  and  again,  staring  into 
gloom  peopled  for  him  with  fantastic  shapes,  his 
feet  and  hands  cold,  his  head  hot. 

The  scenes  attendant  upon  the  reopening  of  the 
oil-well  were  still  vivid  in  his  mind.  He  had 
dreams  of  his  own,  based  upon  what  he  had  seen 
and  heard,  and,  as  he  had  let  slip  under  the  weight 
of  the  accusation  brought  against  him  at  breakfast- 
time,  had  begun  operations  that  might  lead  on  to 
fortune  and  such  fame  as  was  awarded  to  Mr.  Folger 
by  the  hurrahing  multitude. 

He  "had  not  meant  to  burn  Dr.  Dale's  tele- 
grand,"  he  now  confessed  to  Myrtle.  "I  s'pose  I 
must  have  been  finking  of  somefing  else  when  I 
tooked  it  off  the  table,  for  I  don't  'member  it  at  all. 
But  I  did  start  the  fire  to  make  b'lieve  'splode  the 
Wufe  with  a  piece  of  yellow  paper,  'most  like  a  let- 
ter. I  hope  Dr.  Dale  won't  be  angwy  with  me  for 
vewy  long.  I  like  Dr.  Dale ! " 

A  long-drawn  sigh  said  how  much. 

"  He  is  not  angry  at  all,"  responded  the  comforter. 


"So  Help  Me,  God!"      209 

"  He  is  too  good  and  too  kind  to  be  angry  at  what 
he  knows  was  an  accident.  He  knows  you  did  not 
mean  to  do  wrong.  You  can  show  him  that  you  are 
really  sorry  by  being  more  careful  another  time. 

"  Now  —  what  do  you  say  to  getting  into  my  lap 
and  letting  me  sing  to  you  for  a  little  while? " 

Thus  it  came  about  that  Egbert  Dale,  on  the 
threshold  of  the  nursery,  his  hand  upon  the  door 
which  was  unbolted,  and  yielded  slightly  to  his 
touch,  heard  a  soft  voice  singing  within,  and  paused 
until  the  hymn  was  done. 

"Safe  in  the  Hollow  of  Thy  Hand, 

I  lay  me  down  to  sleep  : 
The  Hand  that  sifts  the  stars  like  sand, 
And  measures  out  the  deep. 

"  In  darkest  folds  the  night  may  fall, 

The  wind  and  rain  may  beat ; 
My  Father's  Hand  is  in  them  all : 
My  slumber  shall  be  sweet. 

"  Should  haunting  dreams  my  soul  affright, 

A  grim  and  evil  band, 
These  words  shall  put  their  hosts  to  flight,  — 

«  The  Hollow  of  His  Hand.' 

"  Father !  through  all  my  nights  and  days, 

At  home,  on  sea,  or  land, 
Thee  will  I  trust,  this  be  my  praise,  — 

The  Hollow  of  Thy  Hand." 

The  man  stood  without  the  door,  his  head  bowed 
reverently,  the  light  of  a  great  peace  upon  his  face. 
As  the  singing  ceased,  he  pressed  his  hand  hard 
against  his  eyes.  When  he  had  knocked  he  entered 
the  room  with  lifted  head  and  light  step. 

"  I  thought  it  was  Jack,  when  I  called  out,  '  Come 
in! '  so  gayly,"  said  Myrtle,  glancing  around. 

She  sat  in  a  low  rocker  before  the  fire,  Jeff, 

»4 


210  Dr.  Dale 

muffled  in  a  crimson  shawl  Dale  knew  to  be  hers, 
in  her  arms,  the  flossy  curls  rumpled  against  her 
shoulder,  the  round  cheek  laid  to  hers. 

"  Would  you  have  said,  '  Stay  out ! '  or  only  spoken 
'Come  in,'  sadly?"  smiled  Dale.  "Now  that  I  am 
in  —  if  upon  false  pretences  —  may  I  sit  down  while 
I  say  something  to  our  little  friend  here? " 

He  moved  a  chair  to  her  side  and  swept  Jeff's  face 
with  a  gentle  finger.  Caress  and  tone  were  alike 
soothing. 

"  I  looked  in  to  tell  you,  my  boy,  that  your  burn- 
ing the  telegram  yesterday  did  no  harm.  I  had  an- 
other to-day  from  the  same  person  that  straightened 
everything  out.  I  would  n't  make  a  business  of 
burning  letters  if  I  were  you.  But  it 's  all  right 
about  this  one,  so  we  '11  say  no  more  about  it. 
Shake  hands!" 

Jeff  thrust  a  chubby  fist  from  the  crimson  depths 
of  the  shawl,  and  heaved  a  satisfied  sigh. 

"Then  there  wasn't  anybody  sick  or  dead  you 
could  have  helped  if  you  had  got  it  sooner?" 

"There  wasn't  anybody  sick  or  dead  I  could  have 
helped  if  I  had  got  it  sooner ! "  repeating  the  words 
as  the  child  had  said  them,  and  with  increasing 
gentleness. 

"She"  —  Jeff  raised  loving  eyes  to  the  face  above 
him  —  "  said  you  were  too  good  and  kind  to  be  angry 
with  anybody.  I  fought  so,  too !  " 

A  burning  billow  of  colour  leaped  to  Myrtle's 
cheeks ;  her  eyes  sank  under  the  sudden  fire  darted 
into  them  from  orbs  that  met  them  in  the  surprise 
of  the  unguarded  instant.  For  that  instant  she  was 
speechless,  and  deaf  to  everything  but  the  alarum  of 
her  heart. 

Jeff  complicated  matters. 

"Your  heart  goes  bumpety-bump ! "  showing  his 
pretty  teeth  in  a  laugh  and  pressing  his  ear  more 


"So  Help  Me,  God!"       an 

closely  to  her  chest.  "  Dr.  Dale  showed  me  where 
my  heart  is.  One  day,  when  I  tumbled  off  a  hay- 
wagon  and  cwacked  my  collar's  bone.  He  listened 
at  my  heart." 

Had  the  averted  eyes  been  raised  just  then,  Myrtle 
would  have  been  chilled  and  repelled  at  the  expres- 
sion that  transformed  the  visage  but  just  now  so 
warm  and  bright.  The  spasm  of  disgustful  memory 
passed  as  swiftly  as  it  had  come. 

"I  am  glad  she  thinks  so  well  of  me,"  kindly 
and  naturally.  Then,  in  a  different  tone  "I  do 
not  deserve  it.  Nevertheless,  I  am  grateful  —  and 
proud!  Don't  lift  him!"  as  the  girl  moved  to  lay 
her  burden  down. 

He  took  the  boy  in  his  strong  arms,  and  put  him 
into  the  crib  without  removing  the  shawl.  When 
he  raised  himself  Myrtle  saw  that  the  fringe  was 
tangled  about  one  of  his  cuff-buttons  and  started 
forward  impulsively  to  disengage  it.  Before  either 
of  them  could  anticipate  his  intention,  Jeff  put  an 
arm  about  the  neck  of  each,  and  drew  them  down  to 
him,  kissing  first  one,  then  the  other. 

"  You  are  awful  good  to  me,  Dr.  Dale ! "  Releas- 
ing the  doctor  as  he  said  it,  he  clasped  Myrtle  more 
fondly. 

"Oh,  Miss  Bell!  you  are  the  sweetest,  prettiest 
lady  in  the  whole  world !  Don't  you  love  her,  Dr. 
Dale?" 

The  answer  was  prompt,  serious,  fervent. 

"  Yes,  my  boy !  Now,  good-night,  and  no  dreams !  " 
He  patted  the  curly  head,  and  went  out  without  word 
or  look  for  the  third  person  present. 

Myrtle  lingered  in  the  nursery  until  she  was  posi- 
tive that  Dr.  Dale  had  gone  up  to  his  room,  then 
coming  out,  saw  him  standing  at  the  hall  window 
near  the  foot  of  the  staircase,  his  hands  behind  him, 
looking  out  into  the  night. 


212  Dr.  Dale 

Softly  as  she  tried  to  flit  by  him,  he  heard  her 
and  turned. 

" May  I  speak  to  you  for  a  few  minutes? " 

She  bent  her  head  in  silent  acquiescence,  and  he 
followed  her  into  the  Bells'  parlour. 

Lamp  and  fire  let  him  see  the  downdropped  eyes, 
the  pulsing  carmine  of  her  cheeks,  the  sweet  grav- 
ity of  her  mouth.  She  was  as  much  superior  to 
coquetry  as  he  to  idle  gallantry,  at  this,  the  su- 
preme moment  of  their  lives.  When  he  took  her 
hand  she  did  not  resist. 

"I  am  here  to  answer  Jeff's  question  more  fully 
and  strongly,"  he  began  without  preamble.  "I  do 
love  you  with  all  my  heart  and  soul  and  strength. 
Better  than  my  life  —  better  than  my  soul !  So  help 
me,  GOD!" 

Her  hand  lay  passively  in  his,  the  scent  of  the 
knot  of  purple  violets  in  her  belt,  drooping  in  the 
fire-heat,  mingled  with  the  breath  of  the  roses  in 
the  bowl  on  a  table  near  by;  the  room  was  as  still 
as  a  death-chamber  but  for  the  faint  crackling  of  the 
fire,  while  one  could  have  counted  thirty. 

Then  the  downdropped  lids  flew  wide;  a  flood  of 
laughing,  loving  light  —  radiance,  as  from  the  open- 
ing heavens  —  was  poured  into  his  eyes  and  soul. 

"The  truth — the  whole  truth  —  and  nothing  but 
the  truth?"  asked  the  girl,  archly. 

"  So  help  me,  GOD  ! "  was  the  solemn  iteration. 

"Nevertheless"  —  she  was  saying  saucily,  when 
they  had  waited  a  good  forty-five  minutes  for  "dear 
old  Jack"  to  come  in  —  "all  this  is  horribly  uncon- 
ventional, and  diametrically  opposed  to  articles  and 
by-laws  of  the  Etiquette  of  Courtship.  To  address 
a  well-bred  young  lady  of  quality  —  and  I  am  that, 
although  you  may  not  believe  it!  —  anywhere  but 
under  the  roof  of  her  parents  or  guardian  —  Bless 


"So  Help  Me,  God!"       213 

me!"  in  comic  dismay,  "Jack  is  my  legal  guardian, 
is  n't  he?" 

"Give  me  credit  for  bearing  that  fact  in  mind," 
rejoined  Dale,  with  admirable  sedateness.  "  I  hope 
your  mind  is  easier  now  that  you  know  the  proprie- 
ties have  been  conserved  ?  " 

"No!"  rallying  bravely.  "This  is  Mrs.  Bower- 
sox's  house.  Everything  that  has  been  said  and 
done  in  the  last  hour  is  null  and  void,  and  will  have 
to  be  done  and  said  over  again  at  a  proper  time  and 
place." 

"  With  all  my  heart !  but  when  and  where  ?  I 
thought  you  said  to-day  that  your  uncle  and  aunt  are 
en  route  for  California.  When  they  get  back,  they 
will  go  to  a  New  York  hotel.  Complications  are 
on  the  increase. 

"  As  I  said,  I  am  more  than  willing  to  go  all  over 
the  ground  again.  Suppose  I  begin  by  rehearsing 
it  to  John?  I  hear  his  step  on  the  porch." 

Myrtle  sprang  up  in  a  panic. 

"  Go  and  meet  him  !  "  she  panted.  "  Take  him 
into  his  study  —  or  to  your  room  —  or  anywhere !  and 
tell  him  whatever  you  like!  Mind!  if  Jack  should 
object  —  " 

"  Well  ?  "  Dale  paused,  his  hand  on  the  lock  of 
the  door,  a  laugh  in  eyes  that  were  no  longer  pen- 
sive or  wistful.  "Should  Jack  object —  He  is 
taking  off  his  overshoes  in  the  hall.  Speak  quickly 
or  I  cannot  intercept  him  ! " 

"Then  —  I  shall  have  no  appetite  for  supper!" 
and  she  fairly  pushed  him  out. 

John  Bell  heard  this  threat  when  the  rest  of  the 
story  had  been  told,  and  the  supper-bell  tinkled  in 
the  hall. 

He  laughed  —  a  little.  He  had  worn  a  sober 
but  not  an  unsympathetic  countenance  throughout 
the  relation  which  Dale  condensed  into  fewer 


214  Dr.  Dale 

phrases  than  would  have  sufficed  most  men  in  the 
circumstances. 

"I  have  no  inclination  to  'object,'"  John  said 
sincerely.  "  It  is  late  in  the  day  for  me  to  begin  to 
tell  you  what  I  think  of  you,  and  how  I  feel  toward 
you,  my  dear  fellow.  You  also  know,  as  well  as 
any  outsider  can,  what  my  only  sister  is  to  me. 
Frankly,  there  is  but  one  shadow  of  doubt  upon  my 
mind.  I  never  ask  questions  as  to  another  man's 
business.  But  you  have  made  this  mine,  because 
it  is  my  sister's.  You  spoke  once  —  less  than  two 
months  ago  —  of  some  girl  in  Tennessee." 

The  big  fellow  was  blushing  and  stammering  as 
if  the  secret  were  his,  avoiding  the  other's  eyes  as 
he  tried  to  put  the  objection  into  words  at  once  deli- 
cate and  direct. 

Dale  laid  an  arm  over  the  broad  shoulders;  his 
voice  was  never  more  sonorous  and  musical. 

"John  Bell!  my  dearest  friend!  Could  I  look  you 
in  the  eyes  if  I  could  not  offer  your  sister  a  clean 
hand  and  an  undivided  heart? 

"That  was  a  sick  man's  blunder.  This!  —  give 
me  a  chance  to  prove  what  a  sane  man's  love  is ! " 


CHAPTER   XIX 

"LOVE!    MY  LOVE!" 

"  Dear  Heart !  the  cruel  road  was  long, 
And  endless  gloomed  the  night, 
Till  you  merged  sorrow  into  song, 
Till  your  eyes  brought  me  light. 

Ah !  dear,  dear  eyes  to  guide  me  on  !    Touch  of  a  tender  hand ! 
Shadow  of  Rock  !  and  Cool  of  Stream  !  in  a  dry  and  thirsty  land." 


1 


reopening  of  "The  Ruth"  turned  a 
new  and  garish  page  in  the  history  of  the 
oil  industry. 

As  the  winds  from  all  quarters  of  the 
heavens  rush  into  the  vacuum  made  by 
flame,  the  wildfire  excitement  of  that  memorable 
day  brought  a  flight  of  adventurers  from  every  point 
of  the  compass  into  the  valley  where  oil  flowed  as  a 
river.  Town-lots  were  sold  at  gilt-edged  prices; 
architects  and  contractors  laboured,  day  and  night, 
upon  specifications;  new  gin-mills  flew  the  devil's 
flag  at  a  dozen  corners;  blacklegs  and  chemical 
blondes  drove  their  accursed  trades  with  the  gullible 
and  the  vicious,  whose  left  hands  speedily  squan- 
dered the  money  made  by  the  right.  The  money- 
making  fever  rioted  in  the  veins  of  the  tramp 
population  until  all  sense  of  honesty  and  decency 
went  to  the  dogs,  and  usually  the  victims  of  the 
craze  followed  it. 

Ralph  Folger  was,  of  course,  the  hero  of  the  day. 
Bushels  of  cards  entreating  the  honour  of  personal 
interviews,  and  barrels  of  letters  begging  for  money 
in  sums  varying  from  five  dollars  to  five  thousand, 
kept  servants  and  secretaries  busy.  Ralph  would 
not  look  at  one  of  them.  Firm  as  granite  and  cool 


2i6  Dr.   Dale 

as  snow,  he  reserved  to  himself  the  right  of  doing 
what  he  would  with  his  own;  took  counsel  with 
neither  speculator  nor  lawyer  as  to  the  manner  of 
increasing  and  dispensing  his  riches. 

A  dozen  lots  owned  by  the  Folgers  in  the  heart  of 
the  town  were  to  be  thrown  into  a  public  park;  an- 
other Club  House  was  to  be  erected  near  the  railway 
station  in  one  of  the  worst  of  the  bad  neighbourhoods 
of  Pitvale.  More  could  hardly  be  said  in  dispraise 
of  the  locality.  Ruth's  pet  scheme  of  a  day-nursery 
was  to  be  carried  out  with  as  little  delay  as  was 
compatible  with  stability;  a  whole  row  of  tenement- 
shanties  was  swept  away  in  a  week  to  make  room  for 
another  block  of  model  cottages.  A  line  of  electric 
street  cars  was  projected,  and  Sandy  McAlpin's 
dream  of  substituting  natural  gas  for  that  manufac- 
tured from  coal  was  made  a  practical  possibility  by 
the  formation  of  a  Natural  Gas  Company,  Ralph 
Folger,  President. 

A  cheque  for  five  thousand  dollars  was  sent  to 
Rev.  Cotton  Mather  Welsh  by  Ralph  and  Ruth 
Folger,  with  the  request  that  it  might  be  used  in  fin- 
ishing and  furnishing  the  barn-like  Mission  Chapel 
going  up  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  The  Oilman's 
Rest. 

The  cheque  was  enclosed  in  a  gracious  note  from 
Ruth,  expressive  of  her  brother's  interest  and  hers 
in  the  Mission.  It  was  acknowledged  in  as  few 
words  as  would  inform  Miss  R.  Folger  that  every 
cent  of  the  donation  would  be  appropriated  to  the 
purpose  specified  in  Miss  F. 's  communication. 

John  Bell  was  with  Ruth  when  Mr.  Welsh's  letter 
was  brought  to  her.  She  read  it  over  twice,  —  once 
silently,  then  aloud  to  her  friend. 

"I  can't  understand  why  he  should  take  such  a 
tone ! "  she  said,  raising  puzzled,  sorrowful  eyes  to 
John.  "We  meant  so  well!" 


1IJ 


John  took  the  letter  from  her,  read  it,  and  creased 
it  into  small  folds  while  he  talked. 

"Don't  lay  it  to  heart!"  he  counselled.  "The 
small  crusader  belongs  to  the  not-small  number  of 
human  things  who  squirm  under  a  sense  of  personal 
obligation.  It  galls  him  to  receive  a  favour,  and  he 
deludes  himself  into  the  fancy  that  he  cancels  it  by 
ignoring  it." 

"  But  I  told  him  Ralph  and  I  felt  it  to  be  a  privi- 
lege to  give  to  such  a  cause ! " 

"  Of  course  you  did ! "  as  he  might  console  a 
grieving  child.  "If  he  do  not  choose  to  believe  the 
truth,  what  does  it  matter?  The  motive  in  giving 
and  the  manner  of  it  are  the  main  thing.  If  we  get 
no  return  from  those  for  whom  we  work,  the  duty  of 
working  and  giving  remains  unaltered." 

He  was  preaching  to  himself  more  than  to  his 
parishioner.  The  plait  between  his  level  brows 
was  oftener  and  longer  there  than  Myrtle  or  Ruth 
liked  to  see.  He  was  away  from  home  a  great  deal 
nowadays,  and  frequently  out  late  at  night.  Some- 
times Sandy  McAlpin  or  Carl  Nolting  accompanied 
him.  Sometimes,  but  more  rarely,  Dr.  Dale  or 
Ralph  Folger  shared  his  beat  or  vigil.  Generally 
he  walked  alone,  fearlessly,  although  known  by  his 
height  and  figure  to  every  rough  who  had  been  two 
days  in  town.  He  had  been  seen  to  enter  The  Oil- 
man's Rest  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  to 
come  out,  half  carrying,  half  leading  a  man  who 
could  not  walk.  He  beat  up  recruits  for  the  base- 
ball nine;  for  the  newly  organized  Choral  Union; 
for  the  Bachelors'  Club ;  for  Sunday-school  and  The 
Men's  Bible  Class  taught  by  himself.  He  visited 
drunken  husbands,  and  talked  with  wives  driven 
desperate  by  the  cruelty  of  husbands;  he  and  his 
co-workers  gathered  homeless  children  and  vagrant 
women  from  the  streets  and  gave  them  shelter 


218  Dr.  Dale 

and  food  and  a  chance  to  get  back  to  safety  and 
friends. 

Sandy  McAlpin  told  Ruth  Folger,  in  one  of  the 
conferences  over  the  "Inasmuch  Library,"  to  which 
she  summoned  him  now  oftener  than  of  yore,  that 
"one  line  of  a  hymn  was  aye  singing  itself  in  his 
head  whenever  he  spied  the  Dominie  making  his 
rounds,  — 

" '  Seeking  to  save  !  seeking  to  save ! ' " 

In  outward  seeming  Egbert  Dale  and  Myrtle  Bell 
were  in  the  heart  of  the  maelstrom  of  strife,  of  war- 
ring evil  and  valiant  good,  of  the  lowest  and  the 
holiest  passions  mortality  has  experience  of  in  this 
sphere. 

Dr.  Dale  had  never  been  so  busy  before,  had 
never  thrown  himself  with  such  energy  into  the 
work  crowded  hard  upon  his  hands.  Myrtle,  under 
her  brother's  direction,  and  as  Ruth  Folger' s  agent, 
was  a  ministering  angel  in  many  an  abode  of  misery, 
a  willing  helper  in  charitable  enterprises  maintained 
by  the  women  of  church  and  community.  Her 
ready  tact,  her  gay  spirits,  her  fulness  of  sympathy 
and  the  winsomeness  of  manner  and  speech  that 
were  a  peculiar  and  gracious  gift,  cleared  a  path  for 
her  wherever  she  went.  Poor  women  confided  in 
her;  little  children  flocked  about  her;  the  rudest  of 
the  men  she  met  in  her  walks  and  visits  paid  her 
the  tribute  of  a  respectful  demeanour  and  address. 

"What  have  Una  and  her  lion  been  about  to- 
day?" asked  Dale  one  evening  in  the  tete-a-Ute 
which  they  kept  up  the  pleasant  fiction  of  calling 
"waiting  for  Jack  to  come  in." 

Poor  Jack !  whose  comings  and  goings  were  now 
as  uncertain  as  they  had  once  been  methodical. 
The  chances  were  even  that  they  would  have  to  go 
into  supper  without  him,  although  Mrs.  Bowersox 


"Lovef   My  Love/'         219 

would  hold  back  the  meal  as  long  as  she  dared  run 
the  risk  of  culinary  ruin. 

"As  for  Miss  Bell  and  the  doctor,  it  was  a  miracle 
that  the  poor  dears  were  not  starved  every  night  — 
waiting  sometimes  until  half-past  eight  without  a 
mouthful  — they  were  that  loath  to  sit  down  to  table 
without  Mr.  Bell  —  poor  man!" 

The  brace  of  poor  dears  meanwhile,  fed  as  upon 
heavenly  manna,  recked  not  of  the  lateness  of  the 
hour,  of  over-done  meats,  over-boiled  coffee,  and 
fallen  muffins.  Whether  they  were  apart  or  to- 
gether, the  catholicon  of  Love,  like  a  viewless  at- 
mosphere, was  around  them.  The  overwrought 
physician  had  grown  ten  years  younger  in  ten  days ; 
the  girl  who  had  been  comely  with  freshness  of 
youth  and  high  spirits,  was  beautiful  in  other  eyes 
as  well  as  in  those  feasting  themselves  this  even- 
ing upon  her  brilliant  bloom,  the  spirited  play  of 
feature  and  expression,  the  tender  light  shining 
through  all  from  a  heart  aglow  with  love  and 
happiness. 

By  common  consent  John  was  their  only  confidant. 
The  expediency  of  secrecy  was  obvious. 

"That  much,"  Myrtle  had  said  decidedly,  "is  due 
to  the  proprieties  which  Egbert  takes  to  himself 
credit  for  'conserving.'  (The  phrase  is  his  patent.) 
If  the  gossips  get  hold  of  the  truth,  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  leave  the  house  —  or  he  will.  By  all 
means  let  us  go  on  with  our  'conservation, '  which 
must  not  be  confounded  with  conservatism.  That  is 
not  in  this  little  affair !  I  shall  go  northward  in 
April,  when  uncle  and  aunt  come  back  to  the  East. 
Dr.  Dale  will  follow  me,  and  after  a  few  days  re- 
turn to  Pitvale,  the  poorer  for  the  purchase  of  a 
modest  diamond  ring,  as  befits  his  moderate  means, 
and  the  sisterhood  of  gossips,  with  the  Meagleys  as 
f uglewomen,  will  '  take  up  the  wondrous  tale. ' 


220  Dr.  Dale 

"  Voilct  the  triumph  of  conservation  !  As  Dickens 
says  of  Mrs.  Fielding's  gloves,  worn  while  she  was 
eating,  '  Let  us  be  genteel,  or  die ! ' ' 

Among  the  countless  subjects  upon  which  she  and 
her  lover  were  a  unit  in  opinion  was  that  they  were 
far  happier  for  keeping  their  beautiful  secret  to 
themselves.  Mrs.  Bowersox,  albeit  aunt-in-law  to 
five  notorious  scandalmongers,  and  sister-in-law  to 
their  disappointed,  acrimonious  mother,  had  mas- 
tered the  art  of  minding  her  own  business.  She 
talked  a  great  deal,  and  apparently  aimlessly.  In 
reality,  her  prattle  was  as  guileless  as  that  of  a 
yearling  baby. 

"Artfully  artless!"  Kate  Meagley  had  said  of  it 
to  her  sisters,  after  doing  some  vigorous  and  in- 
effectual pumping.  "That  woman  pushes  truth-tell- 
ing to  a  vice,  yet  you  cannot  draw  what  she  does 
not  choose  to  tell  out  of  her  with  a  corkscrew." 

The  thumbscrew  could  not  have  forced  the  worthy 
soul  to  equivocate,  nor  the  rack  wrung  from  her  what 
she  thought  belonged  rightfully  to  another.  If  she 
had  suspicions  and  hopes  of  her  own  relative  to  the 
handsome  pair  whose  behaviour  in  her  sight  was  as 
frankly  unembarrassed  as  it  had  been  within  a  week 
after  their  first  meeting,  she  veiled  these  under  a 
motherly  regard  for  their  physical  comfort  and  grate- 
ful appreciation  of  their  goodness  to  her  boy.  As 
for  her  husband,  he  did  not  count.  He  was  one  of 
the  men  who  are  thrown  into  society,  as  expletives 
into  conversation  that  would  be  quite  as  strong  and 
more  elegant  without  them.  Looking  at  Joachim's 
nothing-in-particular  face,  and  hearkening  to  his 
insipid  platitudes,  one  entered  into  the  difficulty  his 
spouse  had  in  "realising  Jeff." 

The  plighted  pair  made  much,  in  these  halcyon 
days,  of  the  cherub  who  had  enacted  the  Deus  ex 
machind  in  Egbert's  wooing.  The  doctor  took  him 


"Love!  My  Love!'        221 

along  in  fine  weather  when  he  drove  into  the  coun- 
try or  about  town  upon  professional  calls ;  Jeff  and 
Beautiful  accompanied  Miss  Bell  in  her  walks.  The 
little  fellow  was  very  dear  to  both  of  them.  They 
appreciated  his  mother's  discretion,  and  were  grate- 
ful for  Joachim's  obtuseness,  and  were  happy  with 
all  their  might. 

"There  is  all  the  difference  between  an  announced 
engagement  and  —  ours !  that  there  is  between  the 
hard  gloss  of  a  nectarine  and  the  down  of  a  ripe 
peach,"  Myrtle  had  said,  earlier  in  the  waiting  hour, 
"  or  the  same  peach  when  washed  and  scrubbed.  I 
am  glad  we  can  enjoy  our  fruit  an.  naturel  yet 
awhile  — 

"  My  dear  boy !  you  will  be  a  kiln-dried  peach  if 
you  stay  there  any  longer ! " 

Dale  had  thrown  himself  upon  the  tiger-skin  rug 
that  had  been  one  of  her  gifts  to  her  brother.  He 
was  in  the  hottest  glow  of  the  fire;  his  head  was 
against  the  elbow  of  her  chair,  one  arm  lay  across 
her  lap. 

"I  was  frozen  stiff  this  afternoon,  and  will  need 
an  hour's  baking  at  least  to  take  the  frost  out  of  my 
bones.  I  am  never  too  hot.  I  have  Southern  blood 
in  my  veins,  you  know." 

"Jack  told  me  that  your  parents  were  English, 
but  that  a  remote  ancestor  was  Italian.  There  are 
Greek  lines  in  your  face  —  some  of  the  best  lines 
there  —  "  tracing  his  profile  playfully  with  one  fin- 
ger. "  Your  eyes  have  the  softness,  the  depth, 
sometimes  the  fire  of  the  Italian.  Your  manner  to 
most  people  —  not  to  me  —  is  that  of  the  high-bred 
Englishman.  Some  day,  when  you  are  in  the  humour 
for  story-telling,  you  will  give  me  the  romance  of 
your  life." 

"  Do  you  recollect  the  needy  knife-grinder  and  his 
'  Story  ?  Lord  bless  you,  sir !  I  have  none ! '  "  said 


222  Dr.  Dale 

Dale,   lazily.      "I  am  too  comfortable  just  now  to 
set  about  doing  anything.     I  am  altogether  content 

'  Not  to  be  doing,  but  to  be  ! ' 

I  want  to  be  talked  to,  not  to  talk." 

And  then  he  put  the  question,  "  What  have  Una 
and  her  lion  been  about  to-day? " 

"The  lion  —  look  at  him,  Egbert!  He  actually 
knows  we  are  talking  of  him!  If  he  goes  on  in- 
creasing in  intelligence,  it  will  not  be  safe  to  talk 
where  he  is,"  cried  Myrtle,  in  pretended  alarm. 

Beautiful  had  raised  his  bron2e-red  body  from  the 
floor,  on  the  other  side  of  his  mistress,  and  laid  his 
muzzle  upon  her  knee,  his  eyes,  golden  in  the  fire- 
gleam,  winking  lovingly  at  her. 

Dale  turned  his  lazy  head  to  find  the  dog's  within 
two  inches  of  it,  and  laughed. 

"A  study  in  comparative  physiognomy  for  you," 
he  said,  pulling  one  of  the  silky  ears,  "and,  I 
shrewdly  suspect,  not  to  my  advantage.  But  I  am 
not  jealous  of  you  yet,  old  boy!  She  hasn't  said 
that  you  have  a  Greek  profile,  nor  called  you  a 
'peach;'  that  is,  not  in  my  hearing.  There's  no 
telling  what  flatteries  she  may  heap  upon  you  in  the 
long  days  when  I  am  off  putting  broken  bodies  to- 
gether, and  saving  lives  that  are  of  no  value  to  the 
owners  —  or  to  anybody  else. 

"It 's  a  comfort  to  know  that  the  lion  goes  'pad! 
pad  !  pad  ! '  at  Una's  side  in  Pig  Alley  and  in  back 
streets  that  ought  to  have  worse  names. " 

Raising  himself  to  his  knees,  he  took  the  dog's 
face  between  his  hands  and  studied  the  splendid 
eyes,  eloquent  with  the  dumb  agony  of  wistfulness 
it  makes  a  man's  heart  ache  to  see. 

"  You  will  take  care  of  her  for  me  —  won't  you, 
Beautiful  ?  You  deserve  your  name,  if  ever  a  dog 
did.  Being  a  dog,  you  can  be  charitable  to  creat- 


"Love!  My  Love!'        223 

ures  that  are  not  as  honest  and  straightforward  and 
single-minded  and  faithful  as  you.  Tell  her  —  for 
she  says  she  can  guess  what  you  are  thinking  of  — 
tell  her  that  men  are  a  bad  lot,  and  that  I  have  been 
no  exception  to  the  rest.  That  her  sweet,  clean 
imagination  (that's  one  thing  dogs  haven't  got  — 
imagination !)  cannot  know  how  bad  I  could  and 
would  be,  but  for  the  hope  of  having  her  for  my 
very  own  some  day.  Tell  her  that  she  can  make 
and  keep  me  good,  —  she,  and  nothing  else.  And 
when  she  is  quite  sure  of  all  that  —  you  will  know 
it  by  her  eyes,  I  always  do !  —  say  that  before  that 
blessed  *  some  day  '  —  some  time  when  she  has  eight 
or  ten  hours  to  spare,  and  a  whole  heartful  of  sym- 
pathy, and  a  tank  as  big  as  the  moat  around  'The 
Ruth,'  brimming  with  womanly  charity,  at  call  —  I 
shall  tell  her  the  whole  history  of  my  life  (but  there 
was  no  romance  in  it  until  I  saw  her !)  from  A  to  Z, 
with  an  Amperzand  thrown  in  for  good  measure. 

"  Why,  Beautiful !  that 's  a  tear  on  my  hand,  and 
from  an  angel's  eyes !  " 

With  a  gesture  of  passionate  adoration  he  raised 
both  arms  and  drew  the  face,  shining  through  a  rain 
of  happy  tears,  down  to  his. 

The  blissful  silence  was  broken  by  a  diversion  at 
once  startling  and  absurd. 

Beautiful,  seeing  himself  swept  aside  as  a  forfeited 
pawn  from  a  chess-board,  withdrew  from  rug  and 
fire,  the  offended  hauteur  of  his  earlier  incarnation  in 
full  possession,  and  stalked  majestically  to  a  distant 
window  in  the  most  dismal  part  of  the  room.  There, 
regardless  of  the  fact  that  the  outer  shutters  were 
closed,  he  arose  upon  his  hind  legs,  his  forepaws  on 
the  sill,  and  feigned  to  stare  intently  into  the  garden, 
until  such  time  as  he  considered  the  love-making 
ought  to  be  over.  Becoming  impatient  at  the  vari- 
ance of  opinions  on  this  head,  he  elevated  his  nose 


224  Dr.  Dale 

vertically,  and  emitted  a  blended  whine  and  howl, 
so  shrill  of  pitch,  so  doleful  in  meaning,  that  Myrtle 
clapped  her  hands  to  her  ears  and  Dale  looked 
around,  half  laughing,  half  angry. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  stop  that !  Come  here,  sir !  " 

As  the  dog  obeyed,  reluctant  and  melancholy,  the 
doctor  drew  him  toward  him  gently  by  the  ears. 

"  His  eyes  are  positively  green  with  jealousy !  "  he 
cried.  "  With  dangerous  red  lights  in  them !  See 
here,  old  fellow !  be  philosophical  and  submit  to  the 
inevitable.  You  look  as  if  you  would  like  to  do  me 
an  ill  turn.  Don't  you  know  a  friend  when  you  see 
him?  What  do  you  take  me  for?  A  kidnappper  ? 
or  a  sneak  thief  ?  " 

Myrtle  interposed,  — 

"  Give  him  time  !  The  Marquis  has  antiquated 
ideas  as  to  les  convenances,  —  notions  of  his  own  as  to 
the  conservation  of  proprieties.  There  !  dear !  "  kiss- 
ing the  beauty  spot  between  the  imploring  eyes,  "  I 
love  you  just  as  much  as  ever  —  and  a  little  more ! 

"Did  I  ever  tell  you  "  —  beginning  to  laugh  at  the 
recollection  —  "  of  the  fright  he  cost  me  the  week 
after  you  gave  him  to  me  ?  You  know  he  has  what 
Jack  calls  '  his  cat-er-war-ling  yell '  because  it  is 
never  used  unless  he  sees  a  cat.  It  is  something  ter- 
rific,—  a  grand,  intolerable  combination  of  screech- 
owl,  panther,  and  hysena.  I  had  never  heard  it,  —  no 
cats  happening  to  be  about,  — when,  about  dusk  on 
the  evening  of  that  day,  I  was  sitting  here,  feeling  a 
bit  lonely  for  Jack.  I  did  n't  know  you  well  enough 
then  to  suspect  that  I  might  be  missing  you  too. 
There  came  a  tap  at  the  door.  '  Come  in ! '  said  I, 
without  moving,  for  I  supposed  it  was  Mrs.  Bower- 
sox,  when  enter  Miss  Kate  Meagley,  come  to  pay 
her  first  call. 

"  Beautiful  gave  his  ear-splitting  caterwaul,  and 
sprang  at  her.  I  caught  him  by  the  collar  just  in 


"Love!   My  Love!'        225 

time  to  hold  him  back  from  her  throat,  and  had  to 
box  his  ears  hard  before  he  would  be  quiet.  Miss 
Kate  nearly  fainted  upon  the  chair  nearest  the  door. 
She  thought  me  'very  brave  to  keep  such  a  creature 
about,  but  I  impressed  her  as  a  person  of  phenomenal 
nerve.'  Beautiful  does  n't  like  to  hear  me  talk  of 
that  afternoon,"  stroking  the  abashed  head  he  sank 
upon  his  paws.  "  He  knows  now  how  foolish  it 
was  to  mistake  a  nice  young  lady  in  a  silk-and-cloth 
'  costume '  and  white  gloves  stitched  with  lavender, 
for  a  sleek,  sly,  treacherous  feline  animal.  If  I  were 
to  pronounce  c  a  t  in  that  energetic  tone,  he  would 
be  up  and  at  the  door  to  look  out  for  one  of  his 
natural  enemies." 

"Good  dog!  sensible  dog!  "said  Dale,  heartily. 
"  Give  us  your  paw !  The  Marquis  is  an  authority 
upon  metempsychosis.  A  fascinating  study  that  ! 
but  not  without  danger  to  the  unguarded  learner." 

"Egbert — "  hesitatingly. 

"  Say  on,  my  darling  !  " 

"  We  —  you  and  I  —  don't  gossip,  you  know  —  " 

"  Never  !  Allah  be  praised  !  " 

"  But  would  you  mind  telling  me  why  Ruth  Folger 
does  n't  see  through  that  woman  ?  The  one  is  all 
frankness,  purity,  and  goodness;  the  other — " 

"  Don't  try  to  put  it  into  words,  love  !  I  know  her 
better  than  you  do.  Miss  Folger  may  know  her 
better  than  both  of  us  put  together.  I  incline  to 
think,  however,  that  she  has  faith  in  Miss  Meagley's 
professions  of  devotion  to  herself,  and  will  not  dwell 
upon  faults  she  cannot  help  seeing.  You  may  not 
know  that  both  of  them  fell  into  my  hands  the  night 
they  were  rescued  from  the  raft  ?  Miss  Folger  was 
frightfully  injured  ;  Miss  Meagley  very  slightly,  al- 
though she  was  prostrated  by  the  shock  and  by  the 
almost  certainty  that  the  rest  of  her  family  were 
drowned.  At  daybreak  Miss  Folger  begged  to  see 

'5 


226  Dr.  Dale 

her.  I  was  afraid  the  excitement  would  be  too  much 
for  her,  and  said  so.  She  insisted,  and  we  brought 
Miss  Meagley  to  her  bedside.  I  could  not  leave  my 
patient  for  fear  she  would  sink  without  continual  care, 
and  I  had  to  witness  the  interview.  Then  and  there 
Miss  Folger  promised  that  the  orphan  should  have  a 
home  with  her,  and  a  sister's  loving  care  so  long  as 
they  both  should  live  —  or  so  long  as  Miss  Meagley 
could  be  happy  with  her. 

"  You  know  how  Miss  Folger  keeps  her  pledges, 
and  with  all  her  faults  and  foibles,  I  believe  Miss 
Meagley  to  be  sincerely  attached  to  her  benefactress." 

Something  in  his  tone  —  a  cadence  of  reserve, 
slight,  but  impassive  —  dissuaded  further  catechising. 

Myrtle's  hesitation  in  continuing  the  discussion 
verged  upon  timidity  so  foreign  to  her  temperament 
and  habit  that  she  shook  it  off  impatiently. 

"  Do  you  know,"  glancing  brightly  at  his  grave 
face,  "  I  was  mortally  jealous  of  Kate  Meagley 
once?" 

His  smile  was  incredulous ;  the  slight  shake  of  the 
head  declined  to  admit  the  possibility.  He  raised  one 
little  hand  to  his  lips  and  held  it  there  for  an  instant. 

"  I  was  !  "  persisted  Myrtle.  "  The  night  we  dined 
with  the  Folgers  after  what  Jeff  calls  the  'Splosion 
of  the  Wufe.'  You  two  were  so  confidential  at  table, 
and  later  in  the  evening  in  the  drawing-room,  that  I 
had  a  most  disagreeable  sensation  in  the  region  of 
the  heart.  I  had  never  seen  a  symptom  of  the  flirt 
in  you  before,  and  the  experience  was  n't  pleasant. 
Neither  you  nor  the  Middle  Miss  Meagley  had  eyes 
or  ears  for  anybody  else  —  for  me,  least  of  all  —  or 
so  I  fancied  — 

"  Oh,  Egbert !  don't  look  so  solemn !  You  frighten 
me ! " 

He  was  holding  her  hands  fast  and  reading  her 
eyes  with  his ;  every  feature  was  earnest  and  fixed. 


"Love!   My  Love/9         227 

"  Dear !  "  he  said,  presently,  tenderly  and  seriously. 
"  Am  I  demanding  too  much  of  you  when  I  say  that 
you  must  trust  me  through  and  through,  however 
appearances  may  set  against  me  ?  This  is  but  one 
of  many  instances  when  you  may  see  and  hear  things 
to  puzzle  you,  and  which  I  cannot  explain  at  once  to 
your  satisfaction.  Some  of  them  I  may  never  be  able 
to  explain.  But  I  am  —  I  shall  be  faithful  to  you 
through  all,  and  in  spite  of  everything." 

She  had  slipped  one  hand  from  his  grasp  and  now 
laid  it  over  his  mouth.  Her  cheeks  glowed;  her 
eyes  were  bright. 

"  As  if  I  could  doubt  you !  Not  another  syllable  — 
or  we  may  quarrel  in  dead  earnest.  All  the  Kate 
Meagleys  that  ever  lived  are  not  worth  one  sad 
thought  or  word  of  yours  —  or  mine. 

"  Now  I  shall  go  to  the  piano,  and  charm  away 
the  dark  spirit." 

"  It  is  already  exorcised  —  and  forever !  But  your 
music  is  always  a  joy. 

"  The  rose-leaf  upon  the  full  cup,"  he  subjoined, 
passing  a  fond  hand  over  her  head,  when  she  was 
seated  at  the  piano.  "  The  figure  is  trite.  The 
reality  is  a  glorious  novelty  —  to  me  !  " 

He  went  back  to  the  arm-chair  set  for  him  every 
evening  at  the  corner  of  the  hearth. 

Just  so  he  had  sat  and  listened  to  her  playing  on 
the  bleak  evening — could  it  be  only  two  months 
ago?  —  when  the  piano  was  brought  home. 

Just  so  —  in  seeming !  A  slow  smile  of  ineffable 
content,  of  fulness  of  joy  he  could  not  have  uttered, 
illumined  his  face;  delicious  languor,  that  had  in 
it  naught  of  weariness,  stole  over  him.  These  were 
the  green  pastures,  these  the  still  waters  of  the  Eden 
he  had  never  thought  to  enter.  The  rippling  music 
was  like  the  flow  of  the  River  of  Life. 

They  had  had  other  twilight  hours  together,  when 


228  Dr.  Dale 

she  had  played  and  he  had  listened,  and  the  two  had 
dreamed  silently  and  aloud.  Something  set  this 
apart  for  them,  even  then,  as  the  perfect  pearl  of 
calm  delight,  —  a  season  that  was  to  be  wrought  into 
the  pattern  of  their  lives,  to  become  an  integral  part 
of  themselves. 

"  Sing !  "  murmured  Dale,  by  and  by,  "  '  Between 
the  Lights.' " 

It  was  an  especial  favourite  with  Myrtle.  But,  as 
she  told  him  the  first  time  he  heard  it,  she  chose 
her  audience  carefully  when  she  sang  it.  She  had 
not  let  him  hear  it  until  they  were  betrothed.  She 
had  never  rendered  it  with  such  exquisite  tenderness, 
such  a  passion  of  pathos,  as  she  breathed  into  it 
to-night :  — 

"  Love !  my  Love !  the  sunset  splendour 

Left  the  world  an  hour  ago ; 
The  maiden  moon,  all  shy  and  slender, 

Swooning  in  the  fervid  glow. 
'Neath  curtains  drawn,  the  earth  is  listing 

The  wooing  sibilants  of  the  sea ; 
O'er  land  and  wave,  to  keep  our  trysting, 

Your  constant  spirit  speeds  to  me. 

"  Love  !  my  Love  !  at  twilight  musing, 

Apart  and  lone,  save  for  your  dream, 
Memory  Past  and  Present  fusing 

Into  one  swift,  shining  stream  : 
Leagues  by  hundreds  numbered  parted 

From  eyes  wan  with  watching  vain ; 
You,  O  leal  and  single-hearted  ! 

Answer,  throb  for  throb,  my  pain. 

"  Love !  my  Love !  weird  fancies  thronging,  — 

As  the  south  winds  crisp  the  sea ;  — 
Hope  and  dreading,  joy  and  longing, 

Have  their  minor  tone  for  me. 
Yours  may  be  GOD'S  calm  Forever, 

Safe  from  touch  or  jar  of  Fate, 
Far  as  star-sown  depths  can  sever 

From  me  who  expect  and  wait. 


"Love!  My  Lovef        229 

"  Love  !  my  Love  !  in  purple  drifting, 

Summer  dusk  the  valley  fills  ; 
To  the  bending  skies  uplifting 

Reverent  brows,  rise  altared  hills. 
By  the  meaning  hush  of  even, 

By  the  mirrored  deep  in  deep  — 
Be  your  bourn  or  earth  or  heaven, 

I  know  our  promised  tryst  you  keep  !  " 

Before  Dale  knew  that  the  singer  had  left  the 
piano-stool  she  had  stolen  noiselessly  behind  him 
and  dropped  a  kiss  upon  his  hair. 

"  Love  !  my  Love !  "  she  whispered. 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE  WOMAN   IN   BLACK 

"  Alas !  how  easily  things  go  wrong ! 
A  word  unsung  in  a  lover's  song. 
And  there  comes  a  mist  and  a  blinding  rain, 
And  life  is  never  the  same  again." 

~W"      ~T"NA  and  her  lion  fared  forth,  bright  and 
early,  next  morning. 

A  house  had  been  engaged  as  a  tem- 
^L^y  porary  day-nursery,  pending  the  erection 
of  the  substantial  building  planned  by 
Ruth  Folger.  A  canvass  of  districts  wherein  women 
lived  who  made  the  family  living  or  eked  out  their 
husband's  wages  by  "  going  out  for  the  day,"  to 
wash,  clean,  or  sew,  was  arranged  by  the  working 
sisterhood  of  John  Bell's  church.  Certain  streets 
and  byways  on  the  skirts  of  the  town,  where  rents 
were  cheaper  than  in  thickly  settled  neighbourhoods, 
were  assigned,  at  her  own  request,  to  the  pastor's 
sister. 

"  I  am  fond  of  walking,"  she  said.  "  The  distance 
is  a  recommendation,  not  an  objection,  and  the 
women  who  live  there  are  just  the  sort  who  need  the 
benefits  of  the  nursery.  My  laundress  is  one  of 
them,  and  there  are  several  others  who,  I  know, 
come  regularly  into  Pitvale  to  work.  They  must 
leave  their  babies  at  home  with  neighbours,  or  with 
older  children.  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  the  privilege 
of  telling  them  that  the  little  things  will  be  better 
cared  for  if  they  let  us  have  them." 

There  had  been  heavy  rains  up  the  valley,  and  a 
sudden  rise  of  temperature  had  melted  the  mountain 


The  W^oman  in  Black       231 

snows.  The  creek  —  usually  a  tame,  tortuous  affair 
that  took  its  time  in  attending  to  its  regular  business, 
and  never  concerned  itself  with  the  affairs  of  others  — 
looked  like  a  convulsed  yellow  serpent,  as  it  tore 
between  high  banks,  overflowed  low  shores,  and  bit 
wickedly  at  fences  and  houses  built  incautiously  near 
its  normal  limits.  The  meadows  were  black  with  wet, 
the  soaked  hills  were  sullen  under  a  bluish-slaty  sky, 
crossed  at  languid  intervals  by  gray  wreaths  of  cloud. 

As  Myrtle  paused  on  the  top  of  a  hill  to  the  north 
of  the  town  to  note  effects  that  suggested  a  world  in 
second  mourning,  she  saw  that,  by  some  peculiar 
law  of  refraction,  the  motley-hued  clump  of  villas 
beyond  the  intervening  depression  seemed  to  be  less 
than  half  their  real  distance  from  her.  The  main 
town  was  wrapped  in  dreary  shadows ;  the  flags  upon 
the  Club  House  and  in  the  grounds  of  the  Folger 
mansion  clung  sluggishly  to  the  poles ;  the  red,  white, 
and  blue  were  sharp  dashes  of  colour  in  the  general 
dulness  of  tint.  The  odour  of  oil  was  all-pervasive 
and  pungent;  the  shriek  of  a  locomotive  two  miles 
away  was  as  clearly  audible  as  the  rumble  of  traffic 
in  the  streets  below,  and  the  puffing  of  the  hundred 
engines  drawing  oil  from  the  bosom  of  the  sullen 
hills. 

While  the  young  lady  was  remarking  the  variations 
from  the  ordinary  aspect  of  the  landscape,  she  heard 
a  shrill  shout  behind  her  that  presently  divided  itself 
into  her  own  name. 

"  Miss  Bell !  Me-e-ess  Bel-l-l  f" 

A  diminutive  figure  was  racing  toward  her  from  a 
side-street,  followed  by  a  woman  who  made  frantic 
dives  to  seize  the  flying  coat-skirts. 

Beautiful  bounded  off  to  meet  the  new-comers, 
snatching  a  votive  wisp  of  hay  from  the  roadside  in 
his  rapid  transit.  Myrtle  awaited  his  return  with  his 
convoy  of  Jeff  and  Gretchen. 


232  Dr.  Dale 

The  maid  had  been  into  town  on  a  marketing  ex- 
pedition, taking  the  child  along  "  for  a  walk."  Catch- 
ing sight  of  Miss  Bell  and  her  dog  from  the  bottom 
of  the  hill,  the  young  master  had  "  fair  run  the  feet 
off  of"  his  nominal  guardian  in  the  effort  to  overtake 
them. 

"  You  can  go  on,  Gretchen,"  said  Myrtle.  "  I  will 
see  that  he  gets  home  all  right.  I  thought  of  taking 
him  with  me,  this  morning,  but  was  afraid  I  was 
going  too  far." 

"  I  walked  two  whole  miles  oncet !  "  retorted  the 
pained  infant.  "  Dr.  Dale  tooked  me  to  visit  everan- 
eversomany  sick  folks,  and  he  said  it  was  all  of  two 
miles.  My  legs  are  awful  strong.  I  have  n't  never 
broked  any  of  them!  " 

"  Good  !  "  encouragingly,  "  some  day  we  will  walk 
two  whole  miles  together,  —  you  and  I." 

Jeff  cast  a  side-ray  at  her —  oblique  and  suspicious. 

"  You  won't  never  forget  it,  will  you  ?" 

"  Jeff!  have  I  ever  forgotten  anything  I  promised 
to  do  for  you  ?  " 

"•  No-o-o  ! "  conceded  the  immature  pessimist. 
"  But  there  is  them  that  does  !  There  's  Uncle  Meag- 
ley,  now !  He  promised  me  honest-truly,  blackan- 
bluely,  he  'd  give  me  fifty  cents  as  soon  as  he  got 
ten  thousand  dollars,  and  he  did  n't  do  it.  No,  madam  ! 
not  a  cent  of  it !  " 

"  Because  he  has  not  got  the  ten  thousand  dollars. 
I  would  forget  all  about  it  if  I  were  you." 

"  Ten  thousand  !  You  bet  he  's  got  as  much  as  ten 
hundred  in  the  bank  this  minute  !  He 's  just  too  stingy 
to  pay  his  debts.  Anneke  says  Uncle  Meagley  's  '  a 
bit  dotty.'  What  does  «  dotty'  mean,  Miss  Bell?" 

Before  the  amused  listener  could  reply  she  felt  a 
touch  on  her  shoulder,  and  a  voice  said  in  her  very 
ear,  so  close  to  her  that  she  shrank  from  the  breath 
that  carried  the  words,  — 


The  Woman  in  Black       233 

"  Will  you  please,  ma'am,  tell  me  where  Dr.  Dale 
lives?" 

The  speaker  was  a  woman  dressed  plainly  in  black. 
From  her  speech  and  appearance  it  was  easy  to  see 
that  she  was  from  the  country,  even  without  the  evi- 
dence of  a  large  carpet-bag,  swollen  with  packages  of 
divers  shapes  and  tied  about  with  a  rope,  which  she 
held  in  her  left  hand.  Her  black  straw  hat  was 
trimmed  with  crape,  and  a  touzled  crape  veil  hung 
on  one  side  to  her  shoulder.  She  was  scrawny  of 
figure,  and  sallow  of  complexion,  with  deep-set  black 
eyes  as  round,  and  seemingly  as  hard,  as  beads.  A 
black  woollen  glove  was  on  the  hand  that  carried  the 
carpet-bag.  The  other,  with  which  she  had  touched 
the  young  lady,  was  bare,  roughened  by  labour  and 
chapped  by  the  cold. 

Made  keenly  observant  by  the  surprise  of  the  en- 
counter, Myrtle  took  in  these  details  at  a  glance, 
divining  immediately  that  this  was  a  country  patient, 
or  that  she  wished  to  secure  medical  attendance  for 
some  one  else.  Dr.  Dale's  was  a  potent  name  to 
conjure  with  in  an  area  of  fifty  miles  up  and  down 
the  valley. 

"  If  you  will  walk  on  with  us,  I  will  point  out  his 
office  to  you  in  a  few  minutes,"  she  answered  with 
ready  friendliness.  "  If  you  are  a  stranger  in  the 
place,  I  should  hardly  be  able  to  direct  you  in  any 
other  way." 

"  Thank  ye,  ma'am  !  I  Ve  never  been  here  before.  I 
come  in  on  the  cars  that  got  to  the  deepo  at  ten 
o'clock.  I  Ve  been  walking  ever  since." 

"  You  have  come  a  good  deal  out  of  your  way. 
Almost  any  one  at  the  station  or  on  the  street  could 
have  showed  you  a  more  direct  route  to  Dr.  Dale's 
office.  Everybody  knows  him." 

"  I  was  'fraid  to  ask.  You  never  know  what  tricks 
folks  may  play  on  a  person  when  they  see  she 's  from 


234  Dr.  Dale 

the  country.  But  seeing  you  with  the  little  boy  and 
hearing  him  talk  so  free  to  you,  I  thought  you  were 
respectable  —  and  you  looked  real  kind-like." 

She  stole  a  furtive  glance  at  the  clear,  bright  face 
smiling  upon  her. 

"  I  hope  I  am  respectable,  and  I  try  to  be  kind." 
Myrtle  struggled  with  her  perception  of  the  humour 
of  the  situation.  "  But  I  don't  think  anybody  in  Pit- 
vale  would  have  given  you  the  wrong  direction  to  a 
doctor's  office.  There  are  kind  people  everywhere,  — 
a  great  many  good,  kind  people  in  Pitvale." 

The  board  sidewalk  was  hardly  wide  enough  for 
the  three  to  walk  abreast  comfortably,  particularly  as 
the  carpet-bag  was  broader  than  the  bearer,  who  fell 
to  the  rear  in  going  down  the  hill.  Jeff,  holding 
tightly  to  Miss  Bell's  hand,  kept  twisting  his  head 
around  to  scrutinise  the  stranger,  scraping  his  toes 
on  the  warping  boards,  and  once  catching  his  foot  in 
a  crack,  and  swinging  quite  around,  only  keeping  his 
balance  by  clutching  at  Myrtle's  gown. 

"  Jeff  !  dear  boy !  look  where  you  are  going ! "  she 
admonished  him.  "  Good  walkers  always  do."  And 
in  a  sub-tone,  €<  Don't  stare,  dear !  It  is  not  polite  !  " 

Half-way  down  the  hill  they  met  the  Folger  T-cart 
coming  up,  —  a  smart  affair,  drawn  by  a  powerful  roan 
horse.  The  panels  shone,  the  plated  harness  glit- 
tered ;  the  big  horse  carried  his  head  up  and  stepped 
high.  Kate  Meagley,  in  a  spruce  blue  gown  braided 
with  red,  a  sailor  hat  with  a  red  wing  on  one  side, 
perched  atop  of  her  bebanged  hair,  was  driving. 
She  sat  bolt  upright,  holding  her  whip  in  coachman- 
like  style.  Harriet  was  in  the  seat  behind  her  sister, 
a  natty  groom  was  on  the  back  rundle. 

Kate  nodded  superciliously  from  her  elevation  to 
the  party  on  the  sidewalk. 

"  Sorry  you  're  going  the  wrong  way !  I  'd  give  you 
a  lift !  "  she  called  out  airily. 


The  Woman  in  Black       235 

The  countrywoman  stopped  short  and  stared  after 
the  equipage ;  her  beady  eyes  were  sharply  suspicious. 

"  You  're  sure  you  know  where  Dr.  Dale  lives  ?  " 
she  queried  abruptly  of  her  conductor. 

"  Certainly ! "  amazed  at  the  accent  and  look. 
"  We  shall  be  in  sight  of  the  office  in  a  minute." 

The  other  fell  back,  muttering  something  that 
sounded  like  "  A  person  can't  be  too  careful,"  pro- 
nouncing the  last  word  "  keerful." 

A  light  dawned  upon  the  guide. 

"  She  has  doubts  of  my  respectability !  "  she  re- 
flected gleefully.  "  She  probably  never  saw  a  T-cart 
before,  or  a  woman  playing  smart  coachman,  and  a 
groom  in  livery  holding  on  behind.  She  judges  me 
by  my  acquaintances.  It  is  n't  an  adventure  I  'd  care 
to  speak  of  to  Egbert,  but  Jack  and  I  will  have  a 
jolly  laugh  over  it.  What  would  Kate  Meagley  say?  " 

Her  face  was  alight  with  the  fun  of  the  idea  when 
she  turned  to  say  to  the  woman  in  black, — 

"  Do  you  see  that  buff-coloured  house  down  there, 
on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  street  ?  The  house  with 
a  large  elm-tree  before  it  ?  When  you  get  to  it,  you 
will  see  Dr.  Dale's  name  on  the  door-plate.  I  think 
you  will  have  no  trouble  in  finding  the  place.  Good- 
morning  !  " 

"I'm  mightily  obleeged  to  you,"  was  the  reply. 

The  dubious  look  had  not  passed  away ;  her  eyes 
ran  curiously  over  the  lithe  figure,  passing  to  the 
child  and  then  to  the  dog.  Beautiful,  aware  that  he 
was  an  object  of  distrust,  assumed  his  grandest  air, 
and  gazed  with  fine  unconcern  at  a  derrick  in  the 
middle  distance. 

"  Maybe  you  know  him  ?  "  interrogated  the  stran- 
ger, the  round  black  eyes  returning  to  Miss  Bell. 

"  Dr.  Dale?  There  are  few  people  in  Pitvale  who 
do  not  know  him  —  by  sight,  at  least.  Good-day, 
again.  Come,  Jeff!  " 


236  Dr.  Dale 

She  walked  on  more  briskly  than  before,  her  chin 
level,  a  glint  in  her  eyes  the  provincial  stranger  did 
not  see.  It  was  one  thing  to  direct  a  patient  to  a 
physician ;  it  was  quite  another  thing  to  discuss  her 
betrothed  with  a  person  with  whom  she  could  have 
nothing  in  common. 

Jeff,  as  usual,  had  a  diversion  of  the  best  quality  on 
tap. 

"  How  do  you  s'pose  that  lady  broked  her  finger 
off?  "  he  asked,  looking  backward,  as  one  fascinated 
by  what  he  had  seen. 

"  Was  her  finger  broken  off?     I  did  not  notice  it." 

"  Broked  off.  Or  cut  off  with  a  knife.  Or,  maybe, 
a  naxe.  I  should  n't  be  s'prised  if  it  was  bited  off. 
By  a  lion,  I  fink.  Like  this !  "  designating  the  final 
joint  of  his  little  finger.  "  The  last  end  of  it  was 
clean  gone.  'T  was  her  hand  that  had  n't  any  glove 
on  it.  Likely  she  's  got  the  piece  in  her  pocket,  and 
is  going  to  get  Dr.  Dale  to  sew  it  on  again.  'T  was  n't 
a  bit  bloody,  though.  It  looked  all  mended  over.  I 
'spect  she  did  it  week  before  last,  maybe." 

The  subject  was  too  nearly  involved  with  thoughts 
of  his  own  many  misadventures  for  him  to  get  away 
from  it  easily.  He  twisted  his  head  about  again,  as 
he  trotted  at  his  companion's  side. 

"  She  's  gone  straight  into  the  office  !  I  'm  going 
to  ask  Dr.  Dale  all  about  her  to-night." 

"  Indeed  you  must  not !  "  returned  Myrtle,  emphat- 
ically. "  Never  talk  to  doctors  about  people  who  go 
to  them  to  be  cured  —  or  mended.  It  is  not  right  for 
a  doctor  to  tell  who  has  been  sick  and  who  has  been 
hurt.  People  don't  like  to  have  such  things  told." 

"  /  don't  care  who  knows  about  me !  "  in  modest 
pride. 

"  All  people  are  not  like  you.  So,  dear,  we  will 
not  say  a  word  to  Dr.  Dale  of  the  lady  we  saw  just 
now." 


'The  W^oman  in  Black       237 

The  silenced,  if  unconvinced,  Jeff  was  not  tempted 
to  disobey  the  injunction  that  day.  Dr.  Dale  did  not 
appear  at  dinner-time,  nor  had  he  been  heard  from 
when  John  Bell  granted  himself  the  rare  treat  of  a 
ride  with  his  sister  in  the  afternoon. 

Ruth  Folger  had  put  a  saddle-horse  at  Myrtle's 
disposal  as  soon  as  the  rigour  of  the  winter  abated 
somewhat,  and  Ralph  urged  John  to  exercise  a 
blooded  mare  her  master  was  fabled  to  keep  for  his 
especial  pleasure,  — 

"  When,  in  point  of  fact,  I  have  mounted  her  but 
three  times  in  a  month.  I  should  n't  have  done  it 
then  if  Miss  Bell  hadn't  been  kind  enough  to  go 
with  me.  The  creature  is  as  gentle  as  a  robin,  and  as 
swift  as  a  swallow  when  you  want  to  go.  You  '11 
do  me  a  favour  if  you  keep  her  from  getting  stale  or 
skittish,  standing  in  the  stable." 

"  I  'm  sorry  Egbert  did  not  come  home  to  dinner," 
said  Myrtle,  regretfully,  as  they  walked  their  horses 
out  of  the  Bowersox  gate.  "  Ruth  has  written  to  ask 
me  to  dine  and  spend  the  evening  with  her.  Her 
brother  is  in  Philadelphia,  and  Kate  Meagley  will  be 
at  her  father's.  I  so  seldom  have  Ruth  all  to  myself 
for  a  whole  evening  that  I  have  promised  to  go.  Eg- 
bert intends  to  look  in  upon  the  Choral  Union  re- 
hearsal to-night,  I  know,  but  he  will  be  in  to  supper, 
I  suppose,  and  will  expect  to  see  me." 

"We'll  ride  by  his  office  and  post  him  up  as  to 
your  plans,"  proposed  John.  "  He'll  be  glad  to  have 
even  a  glimpse  of  you.  He  ought  to  be  thankful  for 
the  privilege.  You  are  always  at  your  best  and  pret- 
tiest in  the  saddle." 

"  I  may  return  the  compliment  with  interest,"  re- 
torted the  sister,  eyeing  the  superb  figure  beside  her 
in  loving  pride.  "  I  can't  recollect  the  time  when 
I  did  not  wish  that  Heaven  had  made  me  such  a 
man." 


238  Dr.  Dale 

"  You  have  done  better  for  yourself,  pet.  Dale  is 
a  better-looking  and  a  far  more  brilliant  man  than 
your  brother  can  ever  hope  to  be.  Every  day  proves 
to  me  how  well  suited  you  are  to  one  another." 

Myrtle  turned  her  face  aside.  Not  even  Jack  must 
see  the  rise  of  the  sweet,  warm  moisture  through 
which  she  saw  road,  trees,  and  houses  as  through  a 
prism. 

Was  ever  another  woman  so  blest  in  the  double 
devotion  of  brother  and  lover?  Where,  in  all  the 
wide,  beautiful  world,  was  there  another  girl  whose 
every  desire  was  so  abundantly  satisfied? 

The  world,  that  afternoon,  was  not  beautiful  to  eyes 
unanointed  with  the  oil  of  gladness.  The  blue-grays 
that  had  predominated  in  the  morning  were  now  a 
baleful  purple.  The  breeze  had  swooned  into  a  calm 
that  oppressed  the  lungs  and  the  senses.  Sounds 
that  were  painfully  distinct  in  the  earlier  hours  of  the 
day  were  mixed  and  dulled  into  a  troubled  murmur, — 
a  groaning  together  of  labour  and  traffic ;  the  air  was 
strangely  sultry  for  mid-March,  yet  not  humid. 

John  pointed  out  to  his  sister  a  flock  of  crows  hov- 
ering evilly  over  the  muddied,  tawny  waters  of  the 
swollen  creek. 

"  That  looks  as  if  the  freshet  had  done  harm  to 
stock  up  the  country,"  he  said.  "  I  have  not  seen 
the  creek  out  so  far  since  the  dam  broke.  That  gave 
me  a  new  conception  of  the  meaning  of  the  phrase, 
'  the  letting  out  of  waters.'  " 

They  were  still  talking  of  the  casualty  when  they 
drew  rein  at  Dr.  Dale's  door.  John  alighted,  handed 
his  bridle  to  Myrtle,  and  went  in.  The  doctor  met 
him  in  the  hall.  They  exchanged  a  few  words,  and 
came  out  together,  Dale  without  his  hat. 

Myrtle  leaned  from  the  saddle  to  speak  to  her  be- 
trothed, her  brother  lingering  discreetly  on  the  steps. 

As  John  had  said,  she  was  at  her  prettiest  on  horse- 


The  Woman  in  Black       239 

back.  Heat  and  exercise  had  brought  the  rich  blood 
to  her  cheeks  ;  the  eyes  bent  upon  the  man  of  her 
heart  shone  softly ;  her  smile  was  happy  and  loving. 
The  dark  brown  habit  fitted  perfectly;  the  jaunty 
silk  hat  became  her  rarely. 

A  shadow  fell  upon  the  sparkling  face  as  she 
looked  more  closely  at  her  lover. 

"You  are  pale  and  tired!"  she  said  in  tender 
reproach.  "  I  don't  believe  you  have  had  a  mouth- 
ful to  eat  since  breakfast — naughty  boy!  You  are 
working  yourself  to  death  !  " 

"  I  telephoned  for  a  luncheon-tray  from  the  Club." 

His  voice  was  unresonant,  his  eyes  were  dreary. 
She  could  have  believed  that  they  had  sunken  more 
deeply  under  the  brows  since  she  had  looked  iitfo 
them,  seven  hours  before.  He  looked  past  her  in 
speaking. 

"  I  have  had  a  hard  day  and  a  hard  headache. 
That  accounts  for  much.  And  I  cannot  get  home 
until  late  to-night.  That  accounts  for  more  "  —  meet- 
ing her  eyes  now,  and  smiling  faintly. 

"  It  will  mean  less  to  me  because  I  shall  not  be 
there  myself  until  ten  o'clock,  or  maybe  later,"  Myrtle 
began  her  explanation  by  saying. 

He  listened  attentively,  nodding  his  satisfaction  as 
she  concluded. 

"  That 's  all  right !  I  saw  Miss  Folger  this  morn- 
ing, and  she  told  me  she  had  invited  you.  Have  a 
cosey  evening  with  her,  and  don't  fret  your  sweet 
soul  over  my  nasty  headache  and  more  hateful  pre- 
occupation. I  'm  not  worth  it !  I  hope  you  '11  have 
a  pleasant  ride.  Don't  get  overheated  !  This  is 
most  unseasonable  weather.  Good-by !  " 

He  took  the  bridle  of  John's  horse  from  her,  and 
passed  it  to  her  brother,  stepping  back  to  the  side- 
walk to  do  it,  without  offering  to  touch  her  hand. 

She  knew  why  when  she  saw,  over  the  clouded  wire 


240  Dr.  Dale 

blind  filling  the  lower  sash  of  the  window  in  the 
private  office,  the  face  of  the  woman  she  had  directed 
to  him  in  the  forenoon. 

The  black  hat  and  veil  had  been  laid  aside ;  the 
hair,  strained  back  tightly  from  her  face,  showed  a 
narrow  forehead  and  hollowed  temples.  The  beady 
eyes  surveyed  the  group  without  as  sharply  as  they 
had  looked  from  T-cart  and  occupants  to  Myrtle. 
Egbert  was  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  parade  an 
intimacy  before  a  curious  spectator. 

"  Au  revoir  f"  cried  the  girl,  gaily,  waving  her  whip 
as  they  struck  into  a  lively  canter. 

"  Dale  looks  fagged !  "  observed  John,  solicitously. 
"  And  what  wonder  !  He  has  enough  laid  upon  him 
to  break  down  six  ordinary  men.  Fortunately,  he  is 
not  an  ordinary  man,  in  any  sense  of  the  word." 

When  the  Middle  Miss  Meagley  elected  to  pass  an 
evening  in  the  bosom  of  her  family,  they  sat  in  the 
front  parlour,  where  a  fire  was  kindled  in  her  honour. 
As  she  was  not  backward  in  reminding  her  nearest  ol 
kin,  but  for  her  they  would  all  be  in  the  poorhouse. 

"  Since  I  have  got  to  pay  for  the  coal,  I  don't 
mean  to  be  cooped  up  in  that  wretched  hole  of  a 
back-room,"  she  gave  them  to  understand,  "  with  Pa 
making  a  fool  of  himself  before  my  eyes,  and  nothing 
to  be  seen  from  the  windows  but  the  back-yard  and 
clothes-lines,  and  the  backs  of  common  peoples' 
houses  —  and  a  cat  or  two  on  the  fence." 

Her  consequence  was  fully  recognised  by  her 
beneficiaries.  They  toadied  her,  served  her,  and 
obeyed  her  slavishly.  She  was  to  them  the  em- 
bodied essence  of  victuals  and  drink,  home  and 
clothes.  In  her  and  by  her  and  through  her  they 
stood.  Without  her  they  would  fall,  and  exist  no 
more  as  reputable  householders,  who  they  supposed 
that  other  people  supposed  "  lived  on  their  money." 


The  W^oman  in  Black       241 

The  despot  had  expressed  her  intention  to  Harriet 
that  forenoon  of  supping  with  "  mother  and  the 
girls,"  and  passing  the  evening  with  them.  The 
monthly  accounts  were  to  be  audited  by  her,  and 
other  items  of  business  attended  to  by  the  head  of 
the  family,  and  neighbourhood  affairs  to  be  set  to 
rights  generally.  "Mother  and  the  girls"  were 
"  dressed  up "  to  receive  her ;  everything  was  in 
apple-pie  order ;  there  would  be  waffles  for  supper, 
compounded  according  to  the  celebrated  Bowersox 
formula,  with  broiled  chicken,  fried  potatoes,  and 
three  kinds  of  cake,  not  counting  crullers. 

The  vanity  of  the  Middle  Miss  Meagley,  con- 
founded by  her  with  her  virgin  affections,  had  had 
a  blow  recently.  She  had  a  wild  disposition  to 
trample  upon  somebody  or  somebodies  while  the 
smart  was  fresh  in  her  mind.  The  instinct  'of  the 
wounded  bully  to  choose  the  most  defenceless  victims 
he  can  think  of  upon  which  to  wreak  his  wrath, 
directed  her  to  the  parental  abode. 

She  was  set  down  at  the  porch  paid  for  with  Mrs. 
Bowersox's  money,  at  half-past  three,  alighting  from 
the  carriage  with  the  assured  grace  of  the  owner  of 
the  handsome  turnout.  When  her  wraps  were  re- 
moved, she  was  inducted  into  the  softest  of  the 
figured  plush  chairs  ;  a  cushion  supported  feet  encased 
in  such  boots  as  none  of  her  sisters  could  afford  to 
wear.  She  looked  luxurious,  and  she  felt  cruel. 
The  chair  was  set  at  an  easy  angle  of  incidence  to  the 
front  window.  Five  votaries  were  gathered  about 
her,  ready  to  catch  crumbs,  or  crusts,  or  mayhap 
cuffs. 

The  French  clock  under  the  bell-glass  on  the 
mantel  sounded  four  feeble  strokes  as  the  Bells 
passed  on  horseback,  neither  of  them,  as  Levina 
cynically  remarked,  "  taking  the  trouble  to  look  to- 
ward the  house." 

16 


242  Dr.  Dale 

"The  talk  is  that  she  will  catch  Ralph  Folger 
yet,"  said  Mrs.  Meagley,  sourly.  "  D'  ye  think  it 
looks  some  like  it,  Katey  dear?" 

Kate's  eyebrows  were  half-hoops;  her  upper  lip 
was  shortened  in  a  sneer. 

.  "  It  won't  be  her  fault  if  she  don't !  He  's  cut  his 
eye  teeth,  to  be  sure,  but  it 's  always  on  the  cards  that 
any  man  may  make  a  fool  of  himself.  She 's  the 
fastest  sort  of  a  flirt.  She  '11  get  her  comeuppance 
some  day,  if  she  has  rope  enough." 

The  rest  of  the  domestic  circle  were  in  drill  uni- 
form as  to  speech  and  behaviour.  Miss  Katharine 
was  in  fatigue  undress. 

"Ain't  them  two  of  the  Folger  horses?"  was  the 
mother's  next  inquiry. 

"  Those  are  two  of  the  Folger  horses !  "  with 
monitory  emphasis. 

"  Seems-to-me  she 's  gettin'  very  thick  with  Ruth, 
too.  I  do  hope  and  pray  she  won't  cut  you  out 
there ! "  the  tactless  mother  was  left  to  herself 
to  say. 

Kate  smiled  lofty  and  superior  to  the  clumsily 
worded  fear. 

"  That  would  be  awkward  for  some  folks  I  could 
name  !  "  cuttingly.  "  But  we  're  wasting  time  gos- 
siping !  Before  it  gets  dark,  I  '11  look  over  those 
bills." 

The  bills  had  been  examined,  criticised  and  dis- 
missed with  cautions  against  future  extravagances, 
and  the  censor  lay  back  upon  her  throne,  taking  no 
pains  to  conceal  her  ennui,  when  Harriet's  exclama- 
tion and  rush  window-ward  drew  the  others  after  her 
like  a  flock  of  pigeons  at  the  scattering  of  a  handful 
of  corn. 

Between  the  sunflowers  and  daisies  on  the  Notting- 
ham lace  curtains  were  peep-holes  of  figureless  net, 
through  which  the  coterie  took  observations  of  Dr. 


The  W^oman  in  Black       243 

Dale  walking  up  the  street  past  their  house,  with  a 
woman  none  of  them  had  ever  seen  before. 

A  woman  clad  in  a  black  alpaca  skirt  and  jacket,  — 
a  skirt  that,  as  all  agreed,  was  "  miles  too  short  and 
hung  anyhow,"  while  the  jacket  "  might  have  been 
made  by  a  blacksmith." 

"  Actually  a  round  hat  with  a  crape  veil !  "  tittered 
Miss  Julia.  "Where  do  you  suppose  the  creature 
came  from? " 

"  And  however  did  she  happen  to  be  with  him  ?  " 
chimed  in  Harriet,  who,  next  to  Kate,  had  the  lar- 
gest peep-hole.  "My!  but  don't  he  look  high  and 
mighty  alongside  of  her!  And  she's  crying,  as 
sure  's  you  live !  See  her  wiping  her  eyes  and  blow- 
ing her  nose!  Who  can  she  be ?  " 

"Some  countrified  thing  who  is  taking  him  to  see 
a  sick  person,  and  telling  the  symptoms  on  the  way 
—  faugh!"  ejaculated  magisterial  Kate.  "It's  the 
same  woman  Myrtle  Bell  had  in  tow  this  morning. 
She  was  taking  her  to  Dale  then.  She  's  forever 
hunting  up  that  sort  of  case.  It 's  one  of  her  ways 
of  making  herself  solid  with  rich  men  and  so-called 
charitable  doctors.  It 's  a  dodge  that  pays  well." 

"Can  it  be  only  five  o'clock?  "  as  the  debilitated 
bell  overhead  said  its  little  say. 

She  consulted  her  watch. 

"I  declare  that  contemptible  clock  is  right  for 
once!  How  long  the  days  are  getting!  Somehow 
the  time  drags  more  slowly  in  this  house  than  it 
does  anywhere  else  upon  the  habitable  globe!" 


CHAPTER   XXI 

THE  ELECTRIC   STORM 

1 1  have  seen  tempests,  when  the  scolding  winds 
Have  rived  the  knotty  oaks,  and  I  have  seen 
Th'  ambitious  ocean  swell  and  rage  and  foam. 

But  never  till  to-night — never  till  now, 
Did  I  go  through  a  tempest  dropping  fire. 
Either  there  is  a  civil  strife  in  heaven, 
Or  else  mankind,  too  heedless  of  the  gods, 
Incenses  them  to  send  destruction." 


1 


"<t  HE  tete-d-tete  dinner  was  over,  and  the  two 
friends  were  back  in  Ruth's  sitting-room. 
"The  Chamber  that  is  called  'Peace,'  " 
Myrtle  had  named  it.  The  aptness  of 
the  title  appealed  to  her  imagination  to- 
night, when  in  the  half-light  of  shaded  electric 
burners  the  white  fluffiness  of  curtains  and  rugs  and 
the  cool  grays  of  walls  and  furniture  suggested  the 
plumage  of  a  dove,  — rest  and  tranquillity  brooding, 
like  a  holy  presence,  over  the  figures  in  the  alcoved 
window.  It  overlooked,  as  from  a  safe  and  downy 
nest,  the  lights  of  the  town,  and,  beyond  these,  the 
hills  surmounted  by  the  twin  derricks  covering  the 
"big  wells." 

"  Ralph  calls  this  the  '  nookiest  corner  of  the 
house,'"  said  his  sister,  reaching  out  an  arm  to 
loosen  the  lace  draperies  behind  them  from  their 
loopings. 

They  fell  slowly  into  straight  folds,  shutting  down 
like  moonlit  mists  between  them  and  the  rest  of  the 
room. 

Ruth's  movement  was  so  active  and  so  unexpected 
that  Myrtle  had  not  time  to  forestall  it. 


The  Electric  Storm        245 

"  Oh,  take  care ! "  she  ejaculated,  "  Why  did  n't  you 
ask  me  to  do  that  ?  You  might  have  hurt  yourself !  " 

In  the  dim  light  she  could  see  the  beautiful  smile 
upon  the  other's  face. 

"I  am  practising  such  feats  nowadays,"  said 
Ruth,  tranquilly.  "  For  —  this  is  a  secret  for  a 
little  while  longer,  dear!  I  am  getting  so  much 
stronger  and  less  helpless  that  I  begin  to  hope  — 
Dr.  Dale  says  I  may  expect  to  be  able  to  walk  one 
day,  Myrtle  darling." 

Myrtle  was  kneeling  by  her,  kissing  her  hands, 
her  cheeks,  her  forehead,  laughing  and  crying  to- 
gether, like  a  wild  thing  transported  with  joy. 

"  O  my  sweet !  my  lily !  my  wounded  dove !  I  am 
so  glad  —  so  grateful  for  you  —  and  for  all  of  us !  It 
is  too  blessed  —  too  beautiful  to  be  true!" 

"So  I  thought  for  a  long  time,"  went  on  the  even 
tones.  "  Sit  down  on  this  cushion,  close  by  me, 
and  let  me  tell  you  how  it  happened. 

"  Three  months  ago  the  foot  and  leg  we  thought 
were  paralyzed  began  to  get  'fidgety.'  I  haven't 
any  other  word  that  will  describe  the  feeling.  I 
had  pricks  and  tinglings,  such  as  I  had  never  known 
before,  running  up  and  down  it  and  along  the  spine. 
The  masseuse  Ralph  ordered  to  be  sent  to  me  from 
Paris  before  Christmas  has  treated  me  three  times  a 
week  ever  since.  She  may  have  begun  the  good 
work.  She  has  much  natural  magnetism,  or  elec- 
tricity, or  whatever  the  gift  of  healing  may  be 
called.  For  a  long  time  I  said  nothing  to  anybody 
except  to  her  of  these  odd  new  sensations  that  grew 
more  active  every  day.  I  did  not  want  to  excite 
hopes  that  might  never  be  fulfilled. 

"Then  —  and  this  is  the  wonder  of  wonders  —  on 
the  fourteenth  of  February,  as  I  was  sitting  in  the 
carriage,  looking  up  the  hill  —  when,  for  a  moment, 
it  seemed  as  if  Ralph  had  made  a  mistake  in  think- 


246  Dr.  Dale 

ing  the  well  was  not  extinct  —  and  the  people 
laughed  that  horrid  laugh  —  something  like  an  elec- 
tric shock  went  all  through  me,  then  another,  and 
another,  stronger  and  stronger,  when  the  great  ex- 
plosion came.  It  was  like  what  the  cripple  at  the 
Beautiful  Gate  of  the  Temple  must  have  felt  when 
his  feet  and  ankle-bones  received  strength.  Only 
—  the  thrill  and  the  strength  went  all  down  that 
side  of  me. 

"  I  could  hardly  keep  from  calling  out  to  Dr. 
Dale  when  he  came  to  the  carriage,  and  your 
brother  must  have  seen  that  I  was  labouring  under 
strong  excitement. 

"  When  we  got  home  I  told  Kate.  She  was 
almost  beside  herself  with  joy,  and  could  hardly 
wait  until  evening  to  take  Dr.  Dale  into  our  confi- 
dence. You  may  recollect  that  they  had  a  great 
deal  to  say  to  one  another  at  table  that  night  and 
afterward.  I  did  not  trust  myself  to  look  at  them 
lest  I  should  betray  my  consciousness  of  our  great 
secret. " 

Myrtle  pressed  the  slender  hands,  her  eyes  flash- 
ing intelligent  sympathy,  her  lips  apart  and  quiver- 
ing with  smiles. 

"  I  see  it  all  now !  "  she  breathed  excitedly.  To 
her  heart  she  added :  "  O,  my  love !  my  honourable 
darling!  This  was  what  you  could  not  speak  of, 
even  to  me!" 

"  For  secret  I  insisted  it  must  be  until  the  won- 
derful change  was  proved  to  be  a  certainty,"  Ruth 
went  on  to  say.  "  Dr.  Dale  came  by  appointment 
the  next  afternoon,  when  I  knew  Ralph  would  be 
out  of  the  way.  I  made  an  errand  that  would  take 
poor  Kate  out  of  the  house.  She  was  quite  un- 
strung by  the  prospect  of  the  examination  and  what 
the  verdict  might  be.  No  one  was  with  me  when 
the  doctor  came  except  the  masseuse.  She  helped 


'The  Electric  Storm        247 

him.  They  have  consulted  every  day  since.  Yes- 
terday afternoon  he  called  Ralph  in  and  told  him  we 
might  hope  for  the  best. 

"The  dear  boy  was  completely  overcome.  I 
thought  I  had  known  all  along  how  much  he  loved 
me.  When  he  took  me  in  his  arms  and  fairly 
sobbed,  I  felt  that  even  I  had  never  quite  under- 
stood him  until  that  minute.  He  rushed  off  to 
Philadelphia  by  the  midnight  train  to  see  a  maker 
of  artificial  limbs,  and  to  order  a  skilled  workman 
to  be  sent  to  Pitvale  to  measure  me  for  a  new  foot." 

She  stopped  to  laugh,  and  Myrtle  joined  in.  It 
was  a  relief  to  touch  upon  the  comic  side  of  the 
subject. 

"He  will  be  back  to-night,"  continued  Ruth, 
"and  may  bring  the  man  with  him.  You  know 
Ralph's  energetic  ways.  I  walked  across  the  room 
yesterday  afternoon,  leaning  upon  him  on  one  side, 
upon  Dr.  Dale  on  the  other.  It  was  like  a  miracle! 
When  they  put  me  back  in  my  chair,  Dr.  Dale 
kissed  my  hand,  in  the  graceful,  half-foreign  man- 
ner he  has  at  times,  and  I  saw  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"  '  She  may  never  be  able  to  run  races, '  he  said. 
'  There  is  no  reason  that  I  can  see  why  she  should 
not  walk  comfortably  by  the  help  of  a  cane,  or  a 
steady  arm. ' 

"And  poor  Ralph's  voice  broke  as  he  said,  'My 
arm  will  be  at  her  service  as  long  as  I  am  above 
ground,  doctor ! ' 

"  How  good  they  were  to  me !  Everybody  has 
been  good  to  me  always.  The  Father's  goodness 
and  mercy  have  followed  me  all  my  days.  The  cry 
of  my  heart  is  continually,  '  What  shall  I  render 
unto  Him  for  all  His  benefits  toward  me?'1 

The  listener  could  not  speak.  She  laid  her  wet 
cheek  upon  the  soft  palm  she  was  holding,  and  tears 
did  duty  for  language.  Ruth  stroked  the  bowed 


248  Dr.  Dale 

head  with  her  free  hand,  murmuring  endearing 
phrases  until  the  wave  of  feeling  spent  itself. 

"  What  a  weak  baby  I  am !  what  an  unsatisfac- 
tory creature  altogether !  "  cried  Myrtle,  petulantly, 
dashing  the  clinging  drops  from  her  eyelashes,  and 
sitting  upright  resolutely.  "  But  the  surprise  was 
so  sudden,  and  so  passing  sweet !  and  we  are  all 
going  to  be  so  happy  together !  Pshaw !  there  I  go 
again.  Now  —  I  will  be  sensible ! " 

"Not  yet,  please,  dear! "  With  gentle  force  Ruth 
pressed  her  confidante's  head  down  again.  "I  have 
more  to  say,  and  something  harder  to  say  than  I 
thought  it  would  be.  Something  Kate  does  not 
dream  of,  something  I  could  not  tell  Ralph  unless 
he  were  well  prepared  beforehand.  I  cannot  say  it 
to  you  if  you  look  at  me  — 

"Myrtle  darling!  has  your  brother  ever  told 
you  —  " 

It  was  a  tremulous  whisper,  and  the  answer  was 
scarcely  louder,  — 

"  No,  dear !     But  I  have  guessed  it. " 

As  Ralph  had  done,  she  gathered  the  slight  figure 
in  her  strong  young  arms.  Brown  and  fair  heads 
lay  close  together  in  the  sisterly  embrace. 

Ruth  found  words  first.  The  marvellous  self- 
control  studied  through  years  of  suffering  came  to 
her  aid.  She  spoke  low  but  clearly,  and  hesitated 
no  longer,  — 

"  We  found  it  out,  two  years  ago.  He  had  saved 
my  life  from  the  freshet  and  the  fire  at  the  risk  of 
his  own.  One  day  I  was  driving  out  and  the  coach- 
man fell  from  the  box  in  a  fit.  The  horses  ran 
away.  Mr.  Bell  was  walking  toward  us  and  saw 
what  had  happened.  He  dashed  into  the  middle  of 
the  road,  seized  the  horses  by  the  head  and  clung  to 
them  until  they  stopped.  You  know  how  strong  he 
is.  They  dragged  him  some  distance,  and  I  called 


The  Electric  Storm        249 

to  him  to  let  them  go,  —  that  his  life  was  more  pre- 
cious than  mine.  Kate  was  with  me.  She  lay  in  a 
dead  faint  in  the  carriage  when  he  lifted  me  out  and 
carried  me  to  a  grassy  bank.  I  told  him  to  go  back 
for  her.  He  would  not.  He  had  no  thought  for 
anybody  but  me.  Both  of  us  said  things  in  the  ex- 
citement of  the  minute  we  could  not  recall. 

"The  next  day  we  talked  it  all  over,  solemnly  and 
calmly.  He  would  have  taken  me  as  I  was,  a  help- 
less log.  That  was  not  what  had  kept  him  silent "  — 
laughing  low  and  merrily  at  the  thought.  "  It  seems 
absurd  that  he  should  have  been  afraid  of  me  as  an 
heiress.  But  he  was !  I  showed  him  that  while  the 
money  was  less  than  nothing  in  my  estimation,  I 
loved  him  too  well  —  I  did  not  mind  saying  that  when 
I  knew  what  must  be!  —  I  loved  him  too  well  to  tie 
a  clog  about  his  neck.  That  I  had  long  ago  ac- 
cepted the  truth  that  what  other  women  prized  most 
dearly,  could  never  be  mine.  That  I  would  be  his 
best  and  dearest  friend  as  long  as  he  was  single  — 
and  his  true  friend  forever.  That  is  the  way  the 
matter  has  stood  ever  since. 

"Once  —  just  before  you  came,  he  disobeyed 
orders  and  said,  '  You  are  no  longer  an  invalid. 
My  feelings  are  unchanged.  There  is  but  one 
woman  in  the  world  for  me.' 

"  I  stopped  him  there. 

"  'There  is  but  one  man  in  the  world  for  me,'  I 
said.  'I  think  too  much  of  him  and  of  his  work  to 
hamper  him.  His  wife  should  be  a  helper,  not  a 
burden.'  When  he  would  have  said  more,  I  would 
not  listen. 

"Myrtle!  Sister!"  relaxing  her  hold  upon  herself 
for  an  instant.  "  Do  you  wonder  that  I  went  mad 
with  joy  at  the  idea  of  standing  upright  upon  the 
earth  once  more  —  of  walking  at  his  side?  Was  it 
wicked  that,  when  Dr.  Dale  spoke  of  a  steady  arm, 


250  Dr.   Dale 

and  Ralph  —  dear  old  fellow!  —  said  I  should  have 
his,  I  thought  of  another  —  so  steady !  so  strong ! 

"  Ah,  dear  Lord  ! "  lifting  her  clasped  hands.  "  To 
think  all  this  should  come  to  me!  Sometimes  it 
seems  that  I  must  die  with  the  happiness  of  it!" 

"Live  for  the  happiness  of  it,  sweet  sister!  How 
lovely  that  sounds !  I  always  wanted  a  sister.  I 
never  dared  hope  for  such  a  one  as  you.  It  was  not 
for  nothing  that  I  fell  in  love  with  you  at  sight,  and 
have  gone  on  loving  you  more  and  better  every  day 
since.  Dear  Jack !  how  brave  and  constant  —  how 
delicate  and  tactful  he  has  been !  And  to  think  of 
your  walking  about  with  the  best  of  us  —  going 
everywhere  upon  your  own  dear  little  feet! 

"  I  suppose, "  in  whimsical  perplexity,  "  it  would  n't 
be  quite  the  thing  for  a  minister's  bride  to  dance  at 
her  own  wedding?" 

The  ringing  laughter  that  followed  the  transition 
from  the  sentimental  to  the  ridiculous  startled  whis- 
pering echoes  in  the  strange  stillness  that  enveloped 
them  like  a  tangible  atmosphere. 

Without,  the  blue-black  murk  had  grown  so  dense 
that  the  lights  of  the  town  were  dim  specks;  night- 
sounds  were  muffled,  as  by  falling  snow;  the  air 
was  more  sultry  with  each  minute,  until  respiration 
was  an  effort. 

"  If  it  were  summer,  I  should  say  we  were  going 
to  have  a  thunderstorm,"  remarked  Myrtle,  a  vague 
uneasiness  creeping  over  her  as  she  observed  phe- 
nomena overlooked  in  the  intense  interest  of  the 
conversation.  "Do  you  often  have  such  warm 
weather  at  this  season?" 

"  I  don't  recollect  ever  sitting  with  windows  open  at 

night  as  early  as  March  fourteenth,—  "  began  Ruth. 

A   blaze  of  purplish  lightning  illuminated  trees, 

lawn,  and  fences,  the  town  in  the  hollow,  and  the 

hills  beyond  the  town.      Before  the  startled   girls 


The  Electric  Storm        251 

could  exclaim,  a  crash  shook  the  heavens  and  the 
earth. 

The  electric  storm  had  broken,  and  they  were  in 
the  heart  of  it. 

Simultaneously  —  or  so  it  seemed  —  a  pillar  of 
flame  darted  skyward  from  one  of  the  twin  hills. 

"The  Ruth!  "  cried  the  girls  in  one  breath. 

A  wild  sweep  of  rain  and  wind  blurred  the  awful 
conflagration  for  a  few  minutes.  Through  the  floods 
that  deluged  the  window-panes,  they  saw,  as  it 
were,  a  universe  on  fire.  The  lurid  glare  dyed  the 
clouds  crimson,  and  rolled  blood-red  surges  over  the 
face  of  the  earth. 

A  babel  of  shouts  and  alarm-bells,  the  shriek  of 
fire-engines,  the  whistling  of  steam-pumps  arose 
upon  the  blast.  As  the  brief  passion  of  the  tempest 
abated,  every  feature  of  the  scene  became  fearfully 
distinct.  The  monster  beacon  light  had  not  wav- 
ered for  gust  or  rain.  It  mounted,  straight  and 
strong,  shedding  baleful  gleams  upon  mountains 
fifty  miles  away. 

Ruth's  maid  and  the  masseuse  had  flown  to  her  at 
the  first  alarm.  Half-a-dozen  other  servants  pressed 
into  the  room, — the  women  hysterical,  the  men  ask- 
ing for  orders. 

The  young  mistress  recovered  outward  compos- 
ure at  sight  of  their  disorder.  Her  clear  voice  and 
the  sight  of  her  peaceful  face  stilled  their  clamour. 

"The  new  steel  tank  has  been  struck  by  light- 
ning," she  said.  "You  can  do  nothing  until  Mr. 
Folger  gets  back. 

"The  judgment  of  Heaven?"  as  a  weeping  maid 
sobbed  the  question.  "  By  no  means !  GOD  has  a 
right  to  do  as  He  pleases  with  His  own." 

A  bustle  about  the  entrance  sent  the  terrified 
crew  flying  in  different  directions,  as  they  heard 
their  master's  voice. 


252  Dr.  Dale 

The  rain  ran  in  rivulets  from  his  shoulders  and 
hair;  his  face  was  as  sunny  as  a  May  morning. 

"  I  ran  home  for  a  minute  to  make  sure  you  were 
not  scared,  Ruthie,"  he  began,  by  the  time  he  was 
in  the  room.  "You  here,  Miss  Bell !  That 's  first- 
rate!  Couldn't  be  better!  If  I  'd  known  that,  I 
needn't  have  been  uneasy  about  this  little  girl." 

He  stooped  to  kiss  the  face  looking  lovingly  at 
him  —  flushed  rosily,  as  was  her  white  gown,  by  the 
ruddy  flare  from  the  hilltop. 

"How's  that  for  a  bonfire?"  he  ran  on,  shaking 
hands  with  Myrtle,  and  motioning  toward  the  win- 
dow. "By  George !  I  can  think  of  nothing  but  '  hell 
with  the  lid  off.'  That 's  what  Jim  Parton  said  of  a 
big  blast  furnace  in  Pittsburg.  '  The  Ruth  '  goes 
the  whole  figure  every  time.  I  'm  proud  of  her  as  a 
patent  burner  of  forty  volcano  power. 

"Now,  Ruth  dear,"  in  the  gentle  tone  he  always 
used  to  her,  "I  'm  off  to  try  an  extinguisher  of  my 
own  devising  upon  your  lively  namesake.  Luckily, 
the  cannon  we  used  on  February  fourteenth  has 
never  been  taken  away.  It  is  under  a  shed  close  to 
the  Jumbo  derrick.  Big  Sandy  and  some  other  fel- 
lows have  gone  up  there  to  train  it  full  and  square 
upon  the  tank  of  '  The  Ruth. '  A  few  solid  shot  will 
tear  a  hole  in  the  side  that  will  let  the  oil  run  into 
the  moat  from  the  bottom  of  the  tank,  where  it  has 
not  taken  fire,  and  so  exhaust  the  supply.  When 
the  lamp  is  empty  it  will  go  out.  We  were  going 
to  begin  filling  up  the  moat  with  earth  to-morrow. 
It 's  well  we  had  n't  done  it  before.  Good-by,  and 
don't  worry!  Everything  will  come  out  straight." 

He  rattled  it  off  between  short  breaths,  gave  his 
sister  another  hasty  kiss,  waved  his  hand  gaily  to 
Myrtle,  and  was  off  like  a  whirlwind. 

Ruth  dismissed  her  two  attendants,  after  charging 
them  with  a  message  of  reassurance  to  the  servants. 


The  Electric  Storm        253 

Then  she  and  Myrtle  awaited,  suspensefully,  the 
result  of  the  daring  expedient.  Towering  columns 
of  flame  were  capped  by  volumes  of  smoke,  inky- 
black  above,  reddened  fiercely  underneath,  spread- 
ing, as  they  rolled  upward,  into  a  canopy  that  hid 
the  heavens.  The  hollow  roaring  of  the  burning 
filled  the  ears,  and  even  at  that  distance  the  odour 
was  rankly  offensive. 

The  girls  clasped  each  other's  hands  and  gazed, 
oppressed  and  dumb  with  awe,  at  the  stupendous 
sight. 

Once  Ruth  said,  "  Heaven  grant  the  heated  plates 
may  not  burst  before  the  shot  is  fired !  The  moat 
could  not  stop  a  river  of  fire." 

"The  cannonade  seems  a  desperate  expedient  to 
me,"  ventured  Myrtle. 

"  Ralph  knows  what  he  is  doing ! "  in  confidence 
nothing  could  shake. 

It  was  but  nine  o'clock,  and  nobody  was  asleep  in 
Pitvale.  Thousands  of  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
group  of  men,  blackly  gigantic  in  the  flaring  blaze, 
collected  at  the  base  of  the  Jumbo  derrick. 

The  excitement  was  too  intense  for  much  talking, 
but  murmurs  ran  through  the  packed  streets  of  what 
had  been  done  upon  the  two  hills  one  month  ago, 
and  of  the  marvel  that  the  only  thunderbolt  of  the 
storm  so  unseasonable  and  so  terrific  as  to  be  ac- 
counted miraculous,  had  fallen  just  at  that  point, 
and  done  such  execution. 

One  crank,  an  assistant  in  Mr.  Welsh's  Mission, 
mounted  upon  a  barrel,  and  inveighed  against  the 
"outrageous  iniquity  of  interfering  with  the  doings 
of  the  Almighty. 

"  He  has  stored  up  oil  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth," 
he  vociferated,  "to  burn  the  world  and  the  inhabi- 
tants thereof  at  the  last  day,  and  woe !  woe !  woe !  to 
the  presumptuous  worm  of  the  dust  who  tries  to 


254  Dr.  Dale 

thwart  His  decrees !  One  woe  is  come,  and  six  more 
will  follow  unless  the  wicked  in  high  places  repent 
and  turn  from  their  sins !  " 

One  of  the  Folger  well-men  kicked  the  barrel 
from  under  the  orator,  and  the  crowd  cheered  hys- 
terically as  he  pitched  headforemost  among  them. 

"  There  she  goes ! "  yelled  fifty  voices. 

A  spurt  of  blue  flame,  sicklied  by  the  glare  of  the 
burning  tank,  was  the  precursor  of  a  burst  of  sound. 
Another,  and  still  a  third  shot  followed,  as  fast  as 
the  cannoneer  could  reload.  Runners  tore  down  the 
hill  to  announce,  that  a  big  hole  had  been  made  in 
the  lower  plates  of  the  tank,  and  that  cold,  unlighted 
oil  was  pouring  by  the  hundred  hogshead  into  the 
moat. 

A  bellow  of  applause  went  up  from  the  multitude. 

"Bully  for  Folger!  Three  cheers  and  a  tiger  for 
the  smartest  boss  in  America ! " 

The  intrepid  little  millionaire  had  scored  another 
and  his  greatest  point. 

By  ten  o'clock  the  mighty  column  of  flame  was 
but  a  flicker  on  the  top  of  the  tank. 

At  eleven  Ralph  paid  a  second  visit  to  his  sis- 
ter's sitting-room.  This  time  John  Bell  was  with 
him. 

"I  met  him  as  I  was  going  out,"  reported  the  hero 
of  the  night.  "  He  was  at  my  side  when  I  '  fired  the 
shot  heard  round  the  world,'  or  a  section  of  it. 

"  But  I  tell  you  that  was  a  close  call !  There  was 
enough  oil  in  the  tank  to  flood  the  town.  And  if  it 
had  all  taken  fire!  ugh!  it's  an  ugly  idea!  That 
cannon  was  what  might  be  called  a  special  Provi- 
dence—  eh,  Dominie?" 


CHAPTER  XXII 

"  THE  RUTH  "   AT  MIDNIGHT 

"  Neither  is  it  safe  to  count  upon  the  weakness  of  any  man's  un- 
derstanding who  is  thoroughly  possessed  of  the  spirit  of  revenge  to 
sharpen  his  invention." 


^     •    ^RUE   to  her   belief  that  the   success   of 
what  Ralph  set  out  to  do  was  a  foregone 
conclusion,  Ruth  Folger  had  ordered  sup- 
per to  be  made  ready  for  serving  at  the 
moment  of  his  return  home.     The  serene 
self-poise  that  made  her  ever  mindful  of  the  wants 
and   wishes  of  those   about  her  had  also  kept   her 
from  forgetting  that  Kate  Meagley  was  to  be  sent 
for  at  ten  o'clock. 

The  exemplary  companion's  agony  of  solicitude 
for  the  object  of  her  fondest  regards,  the  friend  who 
must  be  undergoing  untold  tortures  of  anxiety  and 
alarm,  had  nearly  tempted  her  to  walk  home  in  the 
worst  of  the  storm,  —  this  she  poured  out  to  Ruth 
the  moment  she  arrived,  —  but  her  family  would  not 
let  her  brave  the  danger  of  making  her  way  on  foot 
and  unattended,  through  the  crowds  choking  every 
street  and  byway. 

Her  gratitude  to  Heaven  and  to  Miss  Bell  was  feel- 
ingly rendered :  — 

"  You  are  so  cool-headed,  so  even  of  pulse,  so 
ready  to  say  and  do  the  right  thing  in  the  nick  of 
time,  that  you  filled  the  place  of  comforter  and 
adviser  far  better  than  I  could  have  done,'"  she  sighed, 
pressing  her  hand  to  her  palpitating  heart  and  hang- 
ing over  Ruth  with  an  elaborate  assiduity  of  fussiness, 


256  Dr.  Dale 

tucking  in  the  shawl  around  her  shoulders,  straighten- 
ing her  skirts,  covering  her  feet,  humming  and  cooing 
like  a  magnified  mother  pigeon,  until  Myrtle's  even 
pulses  plunged  rebelliously  under  the  repressed  in- 
clination to  shake  her  into  quietude. 

Ruth's  fulness  of  content  held  her  above  petty 
flurries.  She  soothed  Kate's  nerves  and  allayed  her 
expressed  dreads  with  a  few  affectionate  sentences, 
then  sat  with  folded  hands  and  placid  demeanour, 
waiting  for  what  the  next  hour  would  bring,  —  giving 
personal  audience  to  the  relays  of  messengers  sent 
every  ten  minutes  by  her  ever-thoughtful  brother, 
thanking  each  sweetly  for  his  message,  prophesying 
to  all  that  "  everything  would  come  right  soon." 

That  Ralph  should  be  his  own  final  messenger  and 
confirm  the  tidings  of  his  completed  victory  over  ad- 
verse circumstance,  was  only  what  she  had  expected, 
The  welcome  in  her  luminous  eyes,  as  John  Bell  took 
her  hand,  said  that  she  had  anticipated  as  confidently 
his  coming. 

It  was  in  keeping  with  the  daintiness  of  Ralph's 
personal  habits  that  he  made  a  thorough,  if  rapid, 
change  of  attire  before  sitting  down  to  the  meal  he 
needed  more  than  the  rest  of  the  little  party.  He 
had  eaten  nothing  since  noon,  he  confessed  as  an 
excuse  for  an  excellent  appetite.  Fresh  as  to  eyes 
and  complexion,  natty  as  to  clothes,  he  took  the  foot 
of  the  board,  asked  John  Bell  to  say  grace,  and  char- 
acteristically tabooing  the  discussion  of  topics  that 
"  might  jostle  digestion,"  rushed  into  extravaganzas 
relative  to  his  visit  to  Philadelphia.  He  always  had 
adventures  when  he  travelled  by  land  or  water,  —  ad- 
ventures that  were  all  blunders,  making  up  a  series 
of  jokes  of  which  he  was  the  butt.  There  had  been 
encounters  of  wits  in  which  he  was  invariably  worsted, 
the  telling  of  which  sent  the  spirits  of  the  auditors 
up  to  the  high  level  of  his  own.  The  fun  became 


"The  Ruth"  at  Midnight   257 

general ;  every  clever  touch  told ;  not  a  laugh  hung 
fire.  Even  Kate  Meagley  laughed  naturally  and 
dealt  no  felted  taps. 

Looking  back  to  that  never-to-be-forgotten  evening 
in  after  years,  more  than  one  of  the  quintet  who  par- 
took of  the  late  supper  recalled  the  Scottish  super- 
stition that  to  be  "  fey  "  presages  calamity.  At  the 
time  the  prevailing  hilarity  seemed  but  the  rebound 
of  overwrought  feeling  when  the  weight  of  a  great 
impending  danger  was  removed. 

When  Ruth  gave  the  signal  for  leaving  the  table, 
Ralph  ran  around  to  her,  picked  her  up  in  his  sinewy 
arms  and  literally  danced  with  her,  to  his  own  whis- 
tling of  a  popular  air,  across  the  hall  into  the  white 
parlour,  she  protesting  and  pleading  all  the  way,  as 
well  as  she  could  for  laughing. 

As  he  put  her  into  her  chair,  he  said :  "  She  will  be 
waltzing  upon  her  own  blessed  light  fantastics  before 
the  year  is  out.  God  bless  her  !  By  the  way,  who 
has  seen  Dale  lately?  Queer  he  hasn't  turned  up 
this  evening  —  somewhere.  I  've  seen  every  other 
man,  three  fourths  of  the  women,  and  half  the  chil- 
dren in  town,  and  not  so  much  as  a  glimpse  of 
the  handsomest  fellow  in  all  Pitvale.  Where  is  he 
hiding  himself?  " 

Kate  Meagley's  dulcet  word  slipped  in  before  any 
other  was  ready.  It  was  politic  not  to  avoid  the 
mention  of  the  once  dear,  now  detested  name.  Smil- 
ing indifference  was  the  best  cloak  for  the  memories 
gnawing  at  her  vitals. 

"  I  saw  him  at  five  o'clock  this  afternoon.  He 
passed  my  father's  house,  walking  toward  Penn  Boule- 
vard. He  was  escorting  a  woman ;  "  her  smile  a 
thought  too  wide  to  be  quite  spontaneous.  "  A  very 
common-looking  person  dressed  in  black.  Presum- 
ably a  country  patient.  The  same  woman  who  was 
walking  with  you  this  morning,  Miss  Bell.  We  took 

17 


258  Dr.  Dale 


it  for  granted  that  you  had  recommended  her  to  the 
doctor.  She  is  probably  one  of  your  pensioners?  " 

Absurdly  enough,  Myrtle  felt  swift  tongues  of 
flame  flash  across  her  cheeks.  She  was  preposter- 
ously angry,  unaccountably  confused.  Ralph's  nimble 
tongue  saved  her  from  the  humiliation  of  an  intem- 
perate reply,  — 

"  More  likely  one  of  the  millions  of  halt,  maimed, 
and  blind  Dale  collects  from  the  byways  and  hedges, 
and  treats  with  oil  and  wine  on  the  Jericho  road. 
I  never  saw  such  a  fellow  !  He  will  go  further  and 
fare  harder  for  a  pauper  patient  than  for  the  richest 
man  who  ever  '  struck  ile.'  There  's  no  discount  on 
him,  however  everything  else  in  the  way  of  '  human 
warious  '  stock  may  depreciate.  If  I  knew  where  to 
find  him,  I  'd  'phone  him  up.  It  is  n't  fair  we  should 
be  having  all  the  good  times  and  he  be  off  slaving 
for  other  people,  or  gnawing  his  nails  in  solitude." 

John  forbore  to  glance  at  his  sister's  kindling  eyes 
as  the  honest  tribute  to  her  betrothed  was  spoken. 
He  toyed  with  a  spray  of  citronaloes  taken  from  a 
vase  near  by,  as  he  said,  — 

"  He  was  at  home  for  a  while  this  evening.  I  took 
supper  at  the  Club,  and  telephoned  to  his  office  with- 
out getting  any  answer.  Then  I  rang  up  Mrs. 
Bowersox,  for  I  wanted  him  to  join  me  at  supper. 
She  answered  that  he  had  been  in  a  little  before 
seven  o'clock,  'just  in  time  to  keep  Jeff,  poor  dear! 
from  bleeding  to  death,  —  '  "  laughing  as  he  repeated 
the  words. 

Ruth  and  Myrtle  exclaimed  together.  Jeffs  many 
casualties  had  not  steeled  his  friends  against  anxiety 
on  his  account. 

John  explained  :  "  Case  Van  Wagenen  had  been 
mending  the  wheelbarrow,  and  left  the  wheel  lying 
on  the  ground.  Jeff  took  it  into  his  head  to  make  a 
bicycle  of  it  ;  stole  out  of  the  back-door,  having  first 


"The  Ruth'"  at  Midnight  259 

got  hold  of  Case's  lantern,  dragged  the  wheel  into 
the  wood-shed,  rigged  up  a  handle-bar,  and  mounted 
his  machine.  Naturally,  he  took  a  '  header,'  and,  as 
it  happened,  into  the  wood-shed  window.  Result,  — 
a  gash  ever  so  many  inches  long  and  nobody  knows 
how  many  deep,  in  his  wrist  and  upward.  As  Provi- 
dence would  have  it,  Dr.  Dale  happened  to  come  in 
in  the  very  nick  of  time.  He  stopped  the  bleeding 
and  plastered  the  boy  together." 

"  Did  she  tell  you  all  this  by  telephone?  "  laughed 
Ruth. 

"  I  venture  to  say  she  did ! "  broke  in  Ralph. 
"  Moreover,  that  there  is  no  telling  what  would  have 
happened  if  the  doctor,  poor  dear !  had  n't  been 
there.  You  don't  say  anything  of  the  state  of  mind 
at  the  Central  Office  while  the  dialogue  was  going 
on !  Though,  for  that  matter,  nobody  ever  loses 
patience  with  that  best  of  women.  So  you  did  n't 
get  Dale  !  " 

"  No.  When  the  dear  lady  called  the  doctor  to 
supper,  he  was  not  in  his  room.  Gretchen  '  believed 
he  had  had  a  call.'  He  was  to  be  at  the  Choral 
Union  this  evening,  but  there  was  no  meeting,  of 
course." 

Myrtle  was  on  her  feet,  bidding  Ruth  "  Good-night," 
and  engaging  to  run  in  the  next  morning. 

"  She  must  be  very  weary,"  she  observed  to  Ralph. 
"  We  have  kept  her  up  too  late  already.  She  has 
more  nerve  and  spirit  than  any  of  the  rest  of  us, 
but  there  are  limits  to  human  endurance." 

"  It  won't  take  you  five  minutes  to  sing  'Adrift'  for 
me  before  you  go,"  he  said  unexpectedly.  "  And  I 
shall  sleep  the  better  for  it.  Ruthie  will,  too.  That 
ought  to  persuade  you  into  pleasing  me." 

"  I  did  not  need  that,"  returned  Myrtle,  gravely, 
pulling  off  the  glove  she  had  just  drawn  on,  as  she 
went  with  him  to  the  music-room. 


260  Dr.  Dale 

The  drawing-room  lay  between  it  and  the  white 
parlour.  The  doors  of  the  suite  were  open.  Kate 
Meagley,  who  had  strayed  idly  into  the  conservatory, 
John  and  Ruth,  left  together  in  Ruth's  parlour,  heard 
every  note  of  the  song,  to  which  Ralph  listened,  spell- 
bound, standing  behind  the  musician,  arms  folded 
and  head  bowed. 

" '  Heart  of  my  heart !  the  years  have  flown, 
And  lost  is  Arcady ! '  " 

he  repeated,  musingly,  as  she  finished.  "  How  vividly 
it  brings  it  all  back  to  me  !  I  saw  it  while  you  were 
singing,  —  the  Lagoon,  the  glitter  of  the  moonlight 
on  the  waves,  —  and  you  in  your  white  dress,  your 
guitar  on  your  knee !  You  had  taken  off  your  hat. 
The  moonlight  was  very  clear." 

He  put  out  a  restraining  hand  as  she  would  have 
moved  toward  the  door. 

"  It  is  odd  how  much  more  the  picture  means  to 
me  now  than  it  did  then  —  " 

She  interrupted  him ;  not  brusquely,  but  with  frank 
friendliness  that  signified  more  unequivocally  the  dif- 
ference in  their  phases  of  thought  and  feeling,  — 

"That  is  the  glamour  of  Retrospect.  It  makes 
plain  things  beautiful,  commonplace  things  romantic. 
We  did  have  a  pleasant  visit  to  Venice,  did  n't  we  ? 
I,  too,  remember  it  the  more  gratefully  since  I  have 
known  you  better,  and  seen  you  and  Ruth  in  your 
home." 

He  bowed  low  in  stepping  back  to  let  her  pass 
through  the  curtained  archway.  She  had  saved  his 
self-respect  by  reminding  him  that  in  his  own  house 
it  would  be  ungenerous  to  urge  his  suit.  Her  tact 
and  gracious  candour  were  her  own.  She  meant  all 
that  she  implied  in  linking  his  name  with  his  sister's. 
GOD  bless  her  for  a  true  woman;  honourable  and 
clement  beyond  the  rank  and  file  of  her  sex  1 


"The  Ruth"  at  Midnight   261 

The  rest  saw  nothing  unusual  in  their  manner  when 
they  appeared  in  the  white  parlour.  Myrtle  kissed 
Ruth  with  unusual  warmth.  She  had  kept  this  friend, 
too,  by  her  ingenuousness  with  the  brother.  She 
passed  Kate  Meagley  with  a  mute  inclination  of  the 
head.  The  nasty  little  nettle  still  rankled  in  her 
memory. 

If  Ralph  remarked  her  stiffness  and  put  his  own 
construction  upon  it,  he  gave  no  sign.  While  John 
was  wrestling  with  his  dreadnaught  in  the  hall,  strik- 
ing out  right  and  left  until  both  arms  were  in  place, 
grappling  the  collar,  and  finally  lunging  his  great 
frame  into  the  recesses  of  the  garment  to  make  sure 
he  had  got  it  on,  there  was  opportunity  for  the  ex- 
change of  a  sentence  or  two  upon  the  doorstep. 

Myrtle  improved  it. 

"  Ruth  has  told  me  the  glorious  news  about  herself. 
I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart !  " 

"  I  knew  you  would  !     GOD  bless  you  !  " 

Ralph  put  her  into  the  carriage  in  waiting ;  shook 
hands  with  John  as  he  stepped  in  after  her,  slammed 
the  door,  and  ordered  the  coachman  to  drive  on. 

He  stood  watching  the  carriage  as  it  rolled  down 
the  avenue  to  the  outer  gates.  The  weather  had 
changed  within  the  hour.  A  strong  north  wind  was 
clearing  the  lower  heavens  of  smoke  and  oily  reek. 
Here  and  there  a  stray  star  found  its  way  between 
the  drifting  rack  overhead.  The  turbulent  town  was 
stilling  down ;  the  smitten  tank  was  darkly  invisible. 
All  danger  was  mercifully  over,  without  the  loss  of 
one  human  life.  Every  precaution  had  been  taken 
to  avert  further  calamity.  Trustworthy  men  were 
posted  about  the  foot  of  the  hill  whereon  stood  the 
ruins  of  the  derrick.  There  was  no  telling  what  mis- 
chievous boy  or  meddling  tramp  might  not  do  if 
tempted  by  curiosity  to  visit  the  scene  of  the  dis- 
aster. The  master  was  too  well  versed  in  the  caprices 


262  Dr.  Dale 

and  possibilities  of  Oil  to  take  the  remotest  risk  in 
dealing  with  it. 

Luckily,  a  long  train  laden  with  empty  tanks  was 
at  the  railway  station.  Ralph  had  ordered  the  pipes 
connecting  the  moat  with  the  tank  near  the  station  to 
be  opened  and  the  unlooked-for  flow  of  oil  to  be  drawn 
off  as  fast  as  was  practicable,  then  transferred  to  the 
tubular  tanks  on  the  cars.  Such  a  vast  body  of  oil 
exposed  to  the  air,  and  by  day  to  the  sun,  would  be 
too  inflammable  for  public  safety.  He  would  begin 
rebuilding  the  burnt  derrick  to-morrow. 

There  was  no  reason  why  the  master  of  millions, 
the  saviour  that  night  of  thousands  of  dollars'  worth 
of  property  and  of  hundreds  of  lives,  should  not  take 
rest  in  sleep  like  the  poorest  of  his  operatives.  There 
was  absolutely  nothing  more  for  him  to  look  after  for 
ten  hours  to  come. 

He  said  it  inly,  standing  bareheaded  upon  the 
marble  steps  of  the  mansion  his  money  had  built, 
the  rising  wind  making  a  drowsy  rustle  in  the  laures- 
tinus  leaves  about  his  ears,  soughing  dreamily  in  the 
arbor-vitae  trees  lining  the  drive. 

After  an  irresolute  minute  he  went  back  to  his 
sister.  Her  maid  and  the  masseuse  were  in  waiting 
to  roll  her  wheeled  chair  to  her  chamber.  He  put 
them  aside,  wound  his  arm  about  Ruth's  waist,  and 
supported  her  along  a  short  passage  to  her  bedroom 
in  the  wing  of  the  house. 

In  letting  her  sink  into  an  easy-chair,  he  kissed  her 
fondly  twice. 

"  I  have  faith  to  believe  there  are  bright  days  ahead 
of  both  of  us,  sweet  one !  "  And,  as  he  had  said  to 
Myrtle,  —  "  GOD  bless  you  !  " 

He  did  not  intimate  his  intention  of  going  out 
again.  He  never  spoke  of  anything  that  could  cause 
her  uneasiness  when  it  could  be  avoided,  and  he  knew 
she  would  say  he  ought  to  go  to  bed.  She  was  far 


"The  Ruth"  at  Midnight   263 

more  careful  of  his  physical  well-being  than  he  ever 
thought  of  being.  He  knew  how  tough  he  was,  how 
little  sleep  he  needed,  what  a  sedative  and  yet  what  a 
tonic  action  was  to  him. 

He  would  have  a  look  at  the  scene  of  the  fire  be- 
fore turning  in  for  the  night.  He  was  too  restless 
to  sleep,  and  he  did  not  want  to  dwell  upon  certain 
obtrusive  subjects  —  one  in  particular  —  which  would 
be  sure  to  settle  upon  his  pillow  if  he  laid  his  head 
down  upon  it. 

To  an  incorrigible  night-hawk 'like  himself,  it  was 
a  bagatelle  that  midnight  was  proclaimed  by  the 
cathedral  chimes  of  the  clock  in  the  cupola  of  the 
Club  House  as  he  cleared  the  iron  gates  of  the  ave- 
nue. It  was  confirmed  by  feebler  tongues  from  three 
church-spires. 

He  recollected,  complacently,  that  he  had  ordered 
the  clock-bell  to  be  cast  in  Munich,  and  had  John 
Bell's  name  engraved  on  the  rim,  and  that  it  was  known 
throughout  the  region  as  "  the  Dominie." 

Smiling  at  the  thought,  he  took  out  his  repeater 
and  rang  it. 

"  The  Dominie  keeps  tip-top  time  !  "  he  said,  aloud. 
"  '  Steady  as  a  clock '  means  everything  when  you  're 
talking  of  him  —  and  of  his !  " 

Walking  faster  than  was  his  habit  by  day,  he  skirted 
the  business  portions  of  the  lower  town,  crossed  the 
creek  on  the  boulevard  bridge  that  led  to  his  own 
place,  and  began  more  leisurely  to  climb  the  rising 
ground  on  the  other  side.  All  was  quiet;  few  lights 
were  to  be  seen,  and  these  were  at  street  corners. 
The  district  was  sparsely  settled,  and  badly  lighted, 
even  near  the  bridge.  After  a  while  the  form  of  reg- 
ular streets  was  abandoned.  A  vast  common,  dotted 
by  a  dozen  huts,  lay  about  the  hills  that  were  Ralph's 
destination. 

He  was  challenged  by,  and  answered  two  sentinels 
before  they  recognised  him. 


264  Dr.  Dale 

To  the  first  he  said :  "All  right,  my  lad  !  Glad  to 
see  you  know  your  business  !  " 

To  the  second  he  called  gaily,  in  tramping  by, 
" '  If  anybody  tries  to  haul  down  the  American  flag, 
shoot  him  on  the  spot !  '  —  no  matter  what  the  spot 
is!" 

The  man  told  the  story  to  his  dying  day. 

Half-way  around  the  base  of  "  The  Ruth  "  hill,  the 
public  road  made  an  abrupt  turn  to  the  right.  A 
country  lane  joined  it  here,  and  at  the  junction  was  a 
clump  of  dwarf  cedars.  Between  their  blackness  and 
the  lighter  streak  of  the  lane  winding  away  from  com- 
mon and  highway,  Ralph's  falcon  eyes  saw  something 
that  did  not  belong  there.  Without  a  moment's  hesi- 
tation, he  charged  down  the  bank  towards  it. 

A  man  who  had  been  sitting,  or  lying  upon  the 
ground  under  the  cedars,  arose  at  the  sound  of  his 
rapid  advance,  and  moved  down  the  lane. 

"  Halt  there !  "  shouted  Ralph.  "  Hold  on,  and 
give  an  account  of  yourself,  my  friend !  " 

"  Don't  be  a  fool  if  you  can  help  it,  Folger ! "  said 
cool,  cutting  accents. 

"  Dale !  what  in  thunder  are  you  doing  here,  this 
time  of  night?  " 

"  Just  what  you  are  doing,  I  fancy,  and  what 
another  friend  of  us  both  is  doing,  —  going  to  and  fro 
in  this  damnable  earth,  and  walking  up  and  down 
in  it." 

Folger  gave  his  easy-going  jolly  laugh  and  locked 
his  arm  in  Dale's. 

"  Do  you  —  I  know  the  other  fellow  you  speak  of 
does  n't  —  object  to  company?  " 

"  To-night  ?  Yes  !  decidedly !  I  am  going  home. 
You,  I  take  it,  will  be  fooling  around  this  unlucky 
hill  until  daybreak.  I  am  dog-weary !  Judging  from 
your  voice,  you  are  as  fresh  as  a  daisy." 

"  Right    you   are,    my   boy  !     You    thin-skinned 


"The  Ruth"  at  Midnight   265 

thoroughbreds  are  not  in  it  with  us  cold-blooded 
roadsters.  Go  your  way,  and  I  '11  go  mine.  I  should 
be  better  company  than  you  to-night,  —  a  thing  that 
never  happened  before.  Judging  from  your  voice  — 
and  your  incivility  —  I  know  you  are  knocked  to 
pieces.  Good-night !  Go  home  and  go  to  bed  !  " 

He  had  not  tramped  another  hundred  yards  when 
he  espied  a  second  trespasser  upon  forbidden  ground. 
This  time  the  creature  was  in  motion.  Creeping 
up  the  lower  slope  of  the  hill  directly  toward  the 
guarded  moat,  a  bent  figure  was  making  its  slow  way. 
Now,  seen  in  dim  relief  against  the  clouded  sky,  it 
might  be  a  dog,  or  other  brute  animal ;  then  it  raised 
itself  almost  to  a  man's  height,  and  seemed  to  pause 
for  breath.  Ralph  gave  silent  chase,  overtaking  the 
predatory  mystery  on  the  very  brink  of  the  moat. 

He  was  still  fifty  feet  or  more  away  when  the  light 
from  a  dark  lantern,  suddenly  opened,  shone  out.  A 
man  knelt  upon  the  top  of  the  bank,  undoing  a  bun- 
dle of  slender  sticks.  The  leap  that  landed  Ralph 
upon  him  was  too  late  to  intercept  the  act  of  lighting 
the  loosened  faggot  at  the  lamp  within  the  lantern. 
The  torches  flamed  fiercely  as  if  they  had  been  dipped 
in  oil  or  pitch. 

With  a  shout,  Ralph  seized  the  incendiary  by  the 
throat  and  pulled  him  backward.  As  they  went  down 
together,  the  burning  sticks  were  tossed  into  the 
moat,  still  half  full  of  crude  oil. 

"  D — n  you  !  "  said  a  husky  voice,  as  a  red  blaze 
rushed  up,  revealing  the  face  of  the  assailant. 

They  had  slipped  upon  the  earth,  soaked  with  water 
and  oil.  Up  the  saturated  sides  of  the  moat  and  over 
the  edges  roared  the  fiery  surf,  licking  greedily  the 
surface  of  the  thousand  barrels  of  oil,  curling,  flick- 
ering, flaming,  as  from  a  bottomless  pit  of  wrath, 
streaming  up  the  oil-soaked  heights  beyond,  to  tank 
and  half-consumed  derrick,  —  a  mountain  of  living  fire. 


266  Dr.  Dale 

The  watchmen,  rushing  to  the  place  where  the  men 
had  fallen,  saw  a  tall  figure  -rolling  a  smaller  over  and 
over  on  the  wet  ground  to  extinguish  the  fiery  sheet 
enwrapping  him. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  slope  a  third  form  writhed 
and  screamed  in  a  pool  of  liquid  flame. 

"  Dr.  Dale !  "  cried  the  first  man  to  reach  the  fatal 
spot,  recognising  the  taller  of  the  two. 

The  next  second  he  gave  a  shriek,  taken  up  and 
echoed  by  his  fellows,  —  a  groan  and  yell  of  unspeak- 
able horror  and  anguish. 

"  It  can't  be  Mr.  Folger  !  " 

"  It  is !  "  said  a  voice,  calmly  authoritative  even 
at  this  supreme  moment.  "  One  of  you  run  for  a 
carriage  !  Three  of  you  help  me  carry  him  down  !  " 

While  he  spoke,  he  was  taking  off  his  coat  to  wrap 
it  about  his  friend. 

"  Somebody  look  after  the  other  one,  down  there  !  " 
he  ordered,  as  the  four  stooped  to  lift  their  precious 
burden. 

When  the  "  other  one  "  was  picked  up,  his  burning 
clothing  was  stripped  from  him,  somebody  washed 
the  mire  and  smoke  from  the  face  distorted  by 
pain  and  crying,  and  bawled  between  disgust  and 
contempt,  — 

"  Blamed  if 't  ain't  Old  Meagley !  " 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  PASSING  OF  RALPH   FOLGER 

"  Thus  did  this  man  die,  leaving  .  .  .  the  memory  of  his  death  for 
an  example  of  virtue  and  fortitude." 


r  •  VWO  o'clock  tolled  out,  deep,  sweet,  mellow, 
from  the  Club  House  clock  as  John  Bell 
and  his  sister  alighted  at  the  house  they 
had  left  so  cheerfully  less  than  three 
hours  ago. 

The  door  flew  open  before  they  could 
ring.  Arthur,  ashy  pale,  with  loose  trembling  lips 
that  would  not  form  a  syllable,  admitted  them.  A 
wave  of  his  hand  gave  Myrtle  to  understand  that  she 
was  to  go  to  Ruth's  room.  John  paced  the  hall  in  an 
agony  of  grief  and  pity,  while  waiting  for  a  summons 
to  the  chamber  of  suffering. 

Dr.  Dale  had  finished  dressing  Ralph's  burns. 
They  had  carried  him  to  the  white  parlour  at  his  re- 
quest. He  lay  on  a  broad  divan  drawn  into  the 
middle  of  the  floor.  Perfectly  conscious  and  col- 
lected in  mind,  he  had  ordered  every  light  in  the  big 
room  turned  on. 

"  No  darkened  chamber  and  stereotyped  death-bed 
scene  for  me !  "  he  announced  to  physician  and  at- 
tendants. "  If  this  thing  finishes  me,  I  'm  going  out 
in  a  blaze  of  glory.  Eh,  Dale?  " 

Dale,  skilled  in  reading  signs  of  pain,  saw  from  the 
cruelly  clenched  jaw  and  the  anguish  behind  the 
alert  little  eyes,  what  the  dying  man  suffered.  He 
honoured  Folger  for  the  flippant  words  wrung  from 
lips  white  with  agony. 


268  Dr.  Dale 

The  boy  knew  he  was  dangerously  hurt  ;  how 
badly  he  could  not  tell ;  but  the  only  sign  of  tor- 
ture or  of  fear  he  betrayed  was  in  the  unnaturally 
light  speech  that  sought  to  mask  the  pain. 

"Mr.  Bell  is  here,  sir!"  whispered  a  frightened 
servant,  who  tapped  timidly  at  the  door. 

"Say  that  I'm  en — "  began  Dale,  in  the  same 
guarded  key. 

Ralph  had  overheard,  and  cut  in,  — 

"Go  out  and  speak  to  him,  old  man!  Don't  mind 
about  leaving  me  alone.  My  mind  's  a  bit  bewil- 
dered, and  I  want  a  few  minutes  of  solitude  to  pull 
myself  together  in.  Tell  old  John  I  'd  like  to  see 
him  after  a  while." 

Dale  made  a  few  rapid  preparations  for  the  pa- 
tient's comfort,  crossed  the  room  with  noiseless 
tread,  and  slipped  into  the  hall,  drawing  the  door 
to  behind  him.  The  silence  and  awe  of  the  im- 
pending Great  Change  already  brooded  over  the 
house. 

John  checked  his  hurried  walk  and  confronted  the 
doctor. 

"How  is  he?" 

Dale  shook  his  head,  without  speaking. 

"Is  it  —  " 

"  It  is  a  question  of  a  few  hours  at  most.  Besides 
the  external  burns,  which  would  be  fatal,  he  inhaled 
the  flame.  You  know  what  that  means.  He  cannot 
live  until  morning.  He  is  perfectly  conscious,  but 
he  is  in  horrible  pain.  He  bears  it  splendidly. 
You  'd  better  go  to  Miss  Folger  and  break  the 
news  to  her.  You  '11  do  it  better  than  anybody 
else.  Make  her  understand  there  's  'no  hope,  but 
tell  her  to  meet  him  bravely  and  not  to  break 
down.  That  would  but  make  it  harder  for  him.  I 
think  she  can  be  trusted  to  control  herself.  Poor 
girl!" 


Passing  of  Ralph  Folger    269 

The  professional  voice  shook  slightly.  He  paused ; 
then  professionalism  and  assumed  coldness  were 
thrown  to  the  winds. 

"  God  knows  I  have  done  all  I  could !  I  'd  gladly 
have  laid  down  my  own  life  for  the  boy !  If  I  had 
got  there  a  minute  sooner,  I  might  have  prevented 
the  fire.  And  he  bears  it  like  a  hero.  It  shames 
me  to  see  such  pluck.  He  has  everything  to  live 
for  —  and  to  hope  for  —  and  to  work  for !  And 
now — " 

He  checked  himself  abruptly  and  strode  to  the 
open  outer  door,  where  he  stood  for  a  moment,  his 
back  to  John,  staring,  with  eyes  that  saw  not,  into 
the  outer  darkness. 

His  hands  were  knotted  together  behind  his  back. 
Bell  could  see  that  the  knuckles  were  white  with 
the  convulsive  pressure.  The  clergyman,  albeit  his 
closest  friend,  had  never  known  him  to  be  thus 
moved.  John  forbore  to  intrude  upon  the  strong 
man's  grief,  either  by  word  or  gesture.  In  another 
minute  Dale  had  returned  to  the  other's  side.  His 
beautiful  face  was  haggard,  but  marble  in  its  pro- 
found calm.  And  now  John  for  the  first  time,  as 
Dale  stepped  nearer  to  him  and  the  light  from  the 
hall  chandelier  fell  full  upon  him,  took  note  of  the 
doctor's  appearance. 

He  started  back  with  an  exclamation  of  alarm,  — 

"Egbert!  you  are  badly  hurt  yourself!  You 
must  be  in  dreadful  pain.  Your  hair  and  eyebrows 
are  singed!  the  left  side  of  your  face  is  blistered! 
And  look  at  your  hands  !  "  catching  them  in  his  and 
raising  them  to  the  light.  "  They  are  covered  with 
burns  —  and  your  wrist !  Your  coat  is  torn  —  there 
is  blood  upon  your  shirt-front !  You  were  in  it  all ! 
And  you  need  to  be  attended  to  —  at  once! " 

"Yes?"  answered  Dale,  nonchalantly.  "It  does 
hurt  just  a  little.  I  Ml  have  time  enough  to  think 


270  Dr.  Dale 

of  all  that  later.  Now  I  must  go  back  to  Folger. 
He  must  not  be  left  alone  longer.  You  would  bet- 
ter tell  his  sister  at  once.  Let  her  be  ready  to 
come  to  him  at  a  moment's  notice.  Tell  her  the 
first  coherent  words  he  said,  after  we  picked  him  up, 
were  to  beg  that  she  should  not  be  frightened.  That 
was  characteristic,  too. " 

Ralph  was  lying  very  still  when  Dale  re-entered 
the  white  parlour. 

It  was  an  odd  picture  —  the  spacious,  brilliantly 
lighted  room  —  associated  in  Dale's  mind  with  peace, 
luxury,  and  the  perfect  love  of  the  brother  and  sister 
who  were  so  much  to  one  another,  —  the  solitary 
occupant  huddled  together  on  the  broad  couch,  his 
form  swathed  in  white  bandages.  His  keen  light 
eyes  shone  restlessly  from  above  the  face-cloths; 
patches  of  fiery  hair  bristled  forth  between  the 
snowy  head-coverings. 

The  bandaged  figure,  which  even  the  majesty  of 
approaching  death  could  not  wholly  rob  of  a  certain 
element  of  the  grotesque,  lay  helpless  amid  sumptu- 
ous surroundings.  The  master  of  millions  was  in 
a  plight  for  which  his  grimiest  employe"  would  not 
have  exchanged  his  place.  The  man  who  had  made 
and  who  ruled  Pitvale  was  at  this  moment  of  less 
human  account  than  the  meanest  loafer  skulking  in 
its  slums. 

Folger  did  not  speak  or  move  until  Dr.  Dale  bent 
over  him.  Then  he  turned  upon  him  restless  eyes, 
into  which  solemnity,  all  new  to  them,  had  crept. 

"I  'm  going  out,  old  chap?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes ! "  the  doctor  answered  very  gently. 

"And  soon?" 

Dale  bent  his  head,  mutely. 

The  boy  was  silent  for  a  long  minute,  looking 
straight  up  at  the  ceiling  frescoed  with  soft  gray 
clouds,  a  few  pale  stars  gleaming  between  them. 


Passing  of  Ralph  Folger    271 

His  eyes  seemed  to  pass  from  one  to  another  of 
these  to  where  the  silver  sickle  of  the  young  moon 
shimmered  through  a  veil  of  mist.  There  they 
rested  until  he  spoke,  — 

"I'm  pretty  young  to  die,  doctor ! " 

There  was  no  self-pity,  not  a  suspicion  of  com- 
plaint in  his  tone;  only  a  sort  of  awe,  tinged  with 
faint  regret.  He  paused,  then  went  on  in  the  same 
strain,  — 

"  This  is  a  jolly  old  world.  I  've  had  some  first- 
rate  times  in  it.  It  will  seem  queer  to  go  out  of  it 
all!  Did  you  ever  think,  Dale,  what  that  means? 
To  be  absolutely  out  of  the  game,  —  with  no  way  of 
communicating  with  those  we  love;  to  be  shut  out 
of  their  lives  as  utterly  as  if  we  'd  never  lived  at  all. 
It 's  a  queer  thought.  It 's  hard  to  get  used  to  it. 
To  be  no  longer  one  of  the  '  moving  row '  we  were 
speaking  about  the  other  night,  but  to  be  laid  '  back 
in  the  closet. '  Such  a  little  while  —  such  a  bright 
while  ago,  it  was  that  you,  John,  and  I  —  were  talk- 
ing such  things  over!" 

The  deepening  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  shadowy 
moon  above  him. 

"  The  rest  does  n't  bother  me  —  now.  I ' ve  steered 
fairly  straight,  for  the  most  part.  But  to  be  out  of 
it  all ! " 

"You'll  never  go  out  of  the  lives  of  the  Pitvale 
people,  Folger,"  answered  the  doctor.  "They'll 
remember  you  and  love  your  memory  as  long  as 
they  live.  If  you  'd  seen  some  of  them  to-night, 
when  they  heard  that  you  were  hurt,  you  'd  under- 
stand that." 

A  happy  smile  lighted  the  drawn  face. 

"They  are  fond  of  me !  "  he  murmured. 

Articulation  was  increasingly  difficult.  Dale 
moistened  his  lips,  and  dropped,  spoonful  by  spoon- 
ful, a  cooling  preparation  between  them. 


272  Dr.  Dale 

"  Don't  try  to  talk ! "  he  advised.  "  It  only  makes 
you  suffer  and  exhausts  your  strength." 

"That  doesn't  matter — now!  I  like  to  believe 
that  my  fellows  love  me  —  and  will  miss  me.  I'm 
not  given  to  talking  about  such  things,  you  know. 
But  I  've  always  thought  that  some  day  or  other  we 
employers  will  be  called  on  to  give  an  account  of 
our  stewardship  over  the  people  who  have  worked 
for  us.  Ruth  and  I  have  had  many  a  talk  together 
about  it.  I'm  pretty  sure,  "smiling  again,  "that 
her  recording  angel  has  a  duplicate  set  of  the  '  Inas- 
much Library.'  And  I  should  n't  care  to  be  put  to 
shame  on  that  Day.  When  the  books  are  opened, 
you  know." 

"You  won't  be!"  came  the  curt  response,  in  a 
husky,  unnatural  voice,  as  Dale  arose  to  renew  the 
bandages  on  the  injured  man's  face. 

"Thank  you!"  said  Ralph,  simply. 

Then — "I  haven't  waited  until  to-day  to  make 
my  peace  with  my  Creator.  Scrambling  into  glory 
on  the  last  call  is  n't  in  my  line.  That  does  n't 
strike  me  as  a  square  deal,  exactly. 

"  But  there  are  other  things  to  be  settled.  And 
the  time  for  earthly  affairs  is  short.  I  've  sent  for 
Hendrickson.  He  does  all  the  law  business  for  the 
Folger  wells  since  his  father  died.  He  ought  to 
be  here  by  now.  I  must  make  my  will.  Might  I 
trouble  you  to  see  if  he  's  come,  and  if  he  has,  to 
send  him  in  ?  " 

The  lawyer  had  been  waiting  five  minutes  in  the 
hall,  not  daring  to  intrude. 

"  I  've  put  you  to  lots  of  bother  in  my  day,  Hen- 
drickson," was  Ralph's  greeting.  "But  I  fancy  this 
will  be  the  last  time.  Dale!  will  you  put  him  up 
to  what  he  must  do  to  start  my  vocal  apparatus 
again  when  it  gives  out?  And  will  you,  before 
you  go,  give  me  a  drink  of  something  to  brace 


Passing  of  Ralph  Folger    273 

me  up  a  bit,  so  that  I  can  dictate  all  I  want  written 
down  ? " 

As  the  doctor  complied  with  both  requests,  the 
earnest  eyes  met  his  wistfully. 

"Somehow  I'm  not  as  strong  as  I  ought  to  be. 
Will  you  come  back  in  about  ten  minutes,  or  so, 
and  bring  a  couple  of  the  servants  with  you  to  act 
as  witnesses?  Sorry  to  trouble  you!  Hendrickson 
will  let  you  know  when  we've  finished." 

Dr.  Dale  sank  down  on  a  carved  settee  in  the  re- 
cessed hall-window. 

His  head  ached.  Reaction  was  setting  in.  His 
burns  began  to  throb  and  smart.  His  left  shoulder 
was  wrenched,  and  shooting  pains  ran  through  it. 
He  gave  scarcely  a  thought  to  his  injuries.  His 
heart  was  heavy  for  the  dying  boy  in  the  adjoining 
room.  He  was  deeply  stirred  by  Folger 's  brave 
gaiety  in  the  face  of  death.  The  physician,  inured 
to  witnessing  bodily  distress,  despair,  all  the  hor- 
rible stages  that  lead  to  dissolution,  shrank  from 
what  the  next  hour  must  bring  to  pass. 

He  sat  there,  elbows  on  knees,  his  face  in  his 
scorched  hands,  listening  mechanically  to  the  fit- 
ful monotone  of  Folger's  voice  dictating  his  will. 
Once,  when  the  murmur  failed  entirely,  professional 
instinct  made  the  listener  lift  himself  and  strain  his 
ears.  When  the  sound  began  once  more,  he  relapsed 
into  his  listless  attitude. 

Again,  the  voice  was  raised  slightly.  Without 
comprehending  their  import,  Dale  could  make  out 
one  or  two  of  the  testator's  words. 

He  got  up  and  moved  further  from  the  door  of  the 
death-chamber,  quite  out  of  ear-shot. 

At  length  the  droning  of  the  voice  ceased.  Hen- 
drickson opened  the  door  of  the  inner  room  and  mo- 
tioned that  he  was  ready  for  the  witnesses. 

As  Dale  returned  to  the  white  parlour,  butler  and 

18 


274  Dr.  Dale 

housekeeper  at  his  heels,  he  saw,  at  a  glance,  that 
the  work  of  dictating  the  will  had  sorely  drained 
Ralph's  remaining  strength.  The  eyes  were  sunken 
and  glassy;  the  breath  came  in  laboured  gasps.  The 
cooling  draught  had  to  be  administered  between 
every  two  or  three  words. 

The  doctor  gave  his  whole  attention  to  the  task 
of  reviving  the  patient,  while  the  scared  witnesses 
affixed  their  signatures  beneath  Ralph  Folger's,  and 
the  lawyer  pressed  the  blotter  upon  them,  then 
folded  it  up  and  put  it  into  his  pocket. 

Dale  stepped  aside,  out  of  Ralph's  sight,  to  whis- 
per to  the  butler  as  the  man  was  leaving,  — 

"Tell  Mr.  Bell  to  have  Miss  Folger  brought  in  in 
about  ten  minutes." 

To  the  housekeeper,  a  sensible  elderly  woman,  he- 
gave  another  low-voiced  order. 

Hendrickson  left  the  room  with  the  servants. 

Dale  moistened  the  bandages  anew,  set  tumbler 
and  spoon  at  Ralph's  side  ready  for  use,  and  held  a 
glass  to  his  lips. 

"There!  that  will  brace  you!"  he  said,  encourag- 
ingly, as  it  was  swallowed  slowly.  "  The  strain  has 
been  too  much  for  you. " 

"Would  you  mind  —  "  Ralph  began  hesitatingly. 

"That's  all  right!  I've  sent  for  Miss  Folger. 
Bell  will  have  her  here  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  But  —  "  the  wistful  eyes  seeking  his  with  an 
intensity  of  meaning. 

" I  've  sent  for  her,  too." 

"God  bless  you  for  a  good  man  and  a  true 
friend,  Egbert  Dale ! "  broke  out  Folger,  impul- 
sively. "  And  now  I  want  a  word  with  you  before 

they  come.  It 's  an  awkward  thing  to  speak  of. 
j " 

"  Must  it  be  said  ?  "  suggested  the  doctor,  wetting 
the  poor  dry  lips  and  tongue,  as  the  voice  died  away. 


Passing  of  Ralph  Folger    275 

Ralph  rallied  manfully. 

"Yes!  I  shied  at  it  a  bit  the  first  time,  that's 
all.  I  'm  not  used  to  discussing  such  things.  Men 
aren't,  as  a  rule.  But  here  —  and  now— is  where 
it 's  got  to  be  done." 

"  Go  on,  then ! "  assented  Dale. 

Spoon  and  glass  in  hand,  he  watched  for  the  mo- 
ment of  need. 

"  Dale !  old  man  !  you  're  one  of  the  best  friends  I 
ever  had.  I  don't  know  your  past.  I  don't  want  to 
know  it.  But  I  'm  a  fair  judge  of  men,  and  I  know 
you  for  one  of  the  truest,  whitest  men  I  ever  met. 
You  're  a  gentleman  and  a  man  of  honour.  That 's 
enough  for  me." 

He  paused.  Not  a  muscle  of  Dale's  face  had 
moved. 

"  She  loves  you ! "  Ralph  resumed  brusquely,  as 
if  hurrying  through  a  painful  task.  "  She  loves 
you !  Even  I  can  see  that.  You  worship  the  ground 
she  walks  upon.  You  are  proud  as  Lucifer.  You 
won't  ask  her  to  marry  a  poor  country  doctor.  That 
is  foolish.  She  isn't  the  sort  of  girl  to  let  such 
things  matter.  You  thought  once  I  had  a  chance 
there.  Don't  deny  it !  It  was  one  night  when  she 
was  playing  for  us.  I  saw  it  in  your  eyes.  Just 
because  I  was  rich.  You  knew  I  meant  to  ask  her 
to  marry  me." 

"Don't  go  on!"  pleaded  Dale,  for  the  breath  was 
short  and  hard. 

"I  must!  Why,  Dale!  I  knew  that  when  you 
risked  death  to-night  to  save  the  life  of  a  man  you 
believed  was  your  rival.  With  me  out  of  the  way 
you  believed  your  course  would  be  clear.  Yet  you 
followed  me  into  that  hell  and  dragged  me  out." 

"  Don't !  don't  speak  of  that ! "  said  Dale,  in  strong 
agitation.  "I  had  no  such  thought!  What  I  did, 
any  one  of  a  hundred  other  men  would  have  done 
gladly  —  and  better !  " 


276  Dr.  Dale 

"  Maybe  so.  That  does  n't  alter  the  case  as  far  as 
I  can  see.  You  risked  everything  for  me!  " 

Another  silence.  The  final  rally  of  senses  and 
strength  had  come.  He  was  making  the  most  of  it. 

When  he  spoke  again,  there  was  a  new  note  in  his 
voice,  although  it  was  a  half-whisper.  A  smile  lit 
up  the  bandaged  face,  almost  glorifying  it. 

"I  love  her,  too!"  he  said.  "That's  no  news  to 
you,  of  course.  She  cares  nothing  for  me!  How 
could  she?  I  ought  to  have  seen  that,  long  ago. 
Now  I  'm  clean  out  of  the  race,  and  I  mean  that  you 
shall  win.  May  I  ask  you  one  question?  I  don't 
want  to  know  anything  about  your  past  life,  except 
this, — apart  from  lack  of  money,  is  there  any  just 
impediment  to  your  marrying?  " 

"  Before  Almighty  GOD  —  NO  !  " 

Dale  arose  to  his  feet;  his  voice  rang  out  with 
strange  fervour. 

"Then  —  marry  her!"  panted  Ralph,  wrestling 
with  a  new  spasm  of  pain  and  breathlessness,  yet 
resolute  as  ever  to  finish  the  matter  he  had  in  hand. 
"  I  've  left  you  half  my  estate.  You  will  be  the 
richest  man  in  this  section  of  the  State  by  the  time 
the  sun  is  up. 

"Don't  start  back!  Can't  you  see,  man,  it 's  for 
her  —  not  for  you?  I  'm  robbing  no  one.  Ruth  has 
already  more  than  she  can  use.  I  've  left  a  few 
other  legacies.  But  most  to  you  —  and  to  her! 

"Ah!  I  think  I  hear  her  voice  outside  now — and 
Ruth's.  Send  them  in  —  won't  you? 

"And  —  "  a  gleam  of  the  old  humour  leaping  into 
the  tortured  eyes  —  "for  the  love  of  Heaven,  steer 
the  Meagley  girl  off!  Give  her  my  respectful 
adieux.  But  whatever  you  do,  don't  give  her  a 
chance  to  get  in  here  and  smooth  the  pillow  of  the 
dying  saint.  Good-luck,  old  chap !  " 

Egbert  Dale  took  the  swathed  hand  in  both  of  his. 


Passing  of  Ralph  Folger    277 

He  tried  to  speak,  but  no  voice  came.  There  was  a 
sharp,  clicking  sound  in  his  throat,  as  he  tenderly 
laid  down  the  heavy  hand  and  walked  quickly  from 
the  room  through  another  door  than  that  by  which 
John  Bell  entered,  carrying  Ruth  Folger  in  his 
arms. 

Dawn  was  creeping,  slow  and  chill,  over  Pitvale. 

The  streets  had  been  disquieted  all  night.  Knots 
of  men  hung  about  tavern  and  saloon  doors,  or 
drank  within  them  to  drown  the  anxiety  that  pos- 
sessed the  town  as  the  bosom  of  one  individual.  A 
common  dread  was  in  every  soul;  a  common  fear 
blanched  faces  made  horribly  distinct  by  the  ominous 
glare  of  the  burning  hill,  the  funeral  pyre  of  many 
hopes. 

A  pyramid  of  dark-red  flame,  bent  this  way  and 
that  by  the  rising  wind,  it  flared  at  daybreak  as  it 
had  rioted  in  the  first  hour  after  midnight,  without 
let  or  molestation ;  as  it  would  riot  for  many  hours 
to  come,  until  the  oil  was  licked  from  the  trench 
and  the  soaked  sheathing  of  the  moat  consumed. 

Even  Ralph  Folger  would  be  at  a  loss  for  an  ex- 
pedient for  arresting  the  conflagration,  had  he  been 
up  and  doing.  And  Ralph  Folger,  as  every  child 
in  Pitvale  knew,  lay  a-dying  in  the  great  stone 
house  on  the  hill,  the  gray  walls  of  which  showed 
ruddy  by  reflection  from  the  consuming  fire. 

In  one  quarter  —  the  peaceful,  pretty  quarter  of 
the  model  cottages  —  lamps  had  burned  all  night; 
anxious  faces  pressed  against  the  window-panes  and 
peered  from  oft-opened  doors,  as  men  passed  the  end 
of  the  thoroughfare,  or  brought  news  direct  from  the 
great  house. 

At  six  o'clock  a  man  ran  down  the  middle  of  the 
street,  —  a  man,  panting,  coatless,  hatless,  —  his 
oil-stained  overalls  and  soiled  shirt  streaked  and 


278  Dr.  Dale 

scorched.  Like  one  distraught  he  ran,  shouting 
brokenly  a  single  sentence  as  he  went  by  each 
house. 

And  from  the  whole  quarter,  when  he  had  passed, 
arose  a  mingled  clamour  of  the  weeping  of  women 
and  the  strangled  oaths  of  rough,  sorrowing  men. 

For  the  runner  was  Sandy  McAlpin,  and  the 
broken  words  he  sobbed  out  were,  — 

"Ralph  Folger  's  dead! " 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

IN  THE   LIBRARY 

"  With  thy  true  eyes  on  mine,  dear  heart, 

As  at  the  margin  of  the  Sea 
Which  thee  and  me  one  day  must  part, 

Forgive  all  that  I  would  not  be. 
Assoil  thou  me,  while  I  cast  out 

Dark  fancies  that  have  wrought  me  pain  ; 
Let  love's  strong  faith  bear  down  weak  doubt : 

We  shall  not  pass  this  way  again." 

DR.  DALE,  calling  at  the  Folger  house  on 
the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  after  the 
electric  storm,  was   admitted  by  Arthur, 
who  had  evidently  been  on  the  watch. 
"  Miss   Folger   is    sleeping  very  quiet, 
sir,"  he  said.     "  And  will  you   please  walk  into  the 
liberrery?     One  of  the  ladies  will  be  down  directly." 
"  One  of  the  ladies  "  signified  but  one  to  the  wait- 
ing visitor.     Assured   that  the  formal  message  was 
from  her,  the  physician  laid  by  hat  and  overcoat  in 
the  hall,  and   passing  with  the  light,  soundless  step 
habitual  to  him,  into  the  library,  was-  met  full  by 
Kate  Meagley. 

Before  she  said  so  much  as  "  Good-afternoon," 
she  glided  behind  him  and  closed  the  door  he  had 
been  too  much  surprised  to  shut. 

There  was  not  a  vestige  of  colour  in  her  face; 
there  were  dark  crescents  under  her  eyes ;  her  lips 
were  dry  and  livid.  The  cool-headed  observer 
thought  he  had  seldom  seen  a  less  attractive  woman. 
For  the  first  time  since  the  beginning  of  their 
acquaintanceship,  she  had  not  cared  to  commend 
herself  to  his  eyes  in  arranging  the  interview.  She 
entered  at  once  upon  business. 


280  Dr.  Dale 

"  Ruth  has  been  much  more  comfortable  since  you 
were  here  this  morning,"  she  said.  "  Mr.  Bell  saw 
her  afterwards  and  thought  her  condition  much 
improved.  She  fell  into  a  natural  sleep  an  hour  ago 
—  at  two  o'clock." 

"  Yet  I  found  a  message  upon  my  office-slate  at 
half-past  two,  asking  me  to  call  here  at  an  early  hour. 
Why  was  I  sent  for?  and  by  whom?  " 

"  Because  I  wanted  to  see  you  upon  another  matter 
altogether.  I  heard  at  two  o'clock  —  I  had  known 
nothing  of  it  before  —  being  so  much  engrossed  by 
Ruth  —  and  all  the  sad  preparations  —  that  my  father 
was  on  the  hill,  night  before  last.  You  may  imagine 
the  shock  it  was  to  me.  My  sister  Harriet  brought 
me  the  sad  story.  I  asked  her  to  leave  the  message 
at  your  office." 

The  corners  of  the  listener's  mouth  twitched 
slightly. 

A  useless  lie  is  always  a  blunder.  He  had  left  the 
house  and  walked  down  the  avenue  with  Miss  Julia 
Meagley  at  eleven  o'clock,  she  descanting  with  tear- 
ful volubility  upon  dear  Kate's  distress  at  learning 
what  had  happened  to  "  poor  Pa"  over-night. 

Since,  however,  it  suited  the  diplomatic  daughter  to 
receive  him  in  the  earliest  transports  of  grief-full  con- 
sternation, he  would  give  her  her  head. 

"She  tells  me"  —  the  Middle  Miss  Meagley  was 
saying  — "  that  Sandy  McAlpin  has  been  to  my 
mother  to-day  to  say  that  her  husband  is  responsible 
for  what  has  happened.  Sandy  was  in  a  fearful  rage. 
He  told  her  that  if  my  father  were  in  his  right  mind 
he  would  be  dragged  out  of  his  bed,  tarred  and 
feathered,  then  hanged  to  a  lamp-post.  He  warned 
her  that  '  the  wretch'  —  those  were  his  words  — 
'  must  be  locked  up  in  a  mad-house  as  soon  as  he 
can  be  moved,  or  the  boys  will  pay  him  off  in 
their  own  fashion.' 


In  the  Library  281 


"  Dr.  Dale  !  you  know  what  my  father  is,  —  a  feeble 
old  man,  broken  by  his  unmerited  misfortunes,  and 
with  the  foolish  ways  and  talk  of  his  age  and  condi- 
tion. It  would  kill  him  to  be  put  into  an  asylum.  It 
would  be  a  lasting  disgrace  to  his  family.  I  am  in- 
formed that  you  are  the  only  person  who  knows  just 
what  happened  before  the  fire  broke  out.  My  mother, 
my  sisters,  and  myself  were  greatly  excited  by  the 
storm,  and  the  lightning-bolt,  and  the  cannonading 
early  in  the  evening.  When  the  carriage  came  for 
me,  my  mother  was  unwilling  to  have  me  venture  into 
the  streets,  filled  as  they  were  with  all  sorts  of  des- 
perate characters.  When  I  would  come  home  to  see 
how  Ruth  was  bearing  it  all,  her  uneasiness  and  worry 
made  her  forget  my  father.  She  supposed  him  to  be 
in  bed  until  he  was  brought  home  with  his  clothes 
burned  off  his  body. 

"  He  was  suffering  too  much  to  give  any  rational 
account  of  himself.  The  men  who  brought  him  told 
a  confused  story  of  having  found  him  near  the  moat, 
which  had  somehow  taken  fire.  We  could  not  get 
you,  as  you  were  busy  with  Mr.  Folger.  Dr.  Kruger 
was  sent  for.  He  put  my  father  under  the  influence 
of  morphine  and  ordered  him  to  be  kept  perfectly 
quiet.  Until  McAlpin  called,  my  mother  did  not 
know  how  he  got  his  burns.  You  have  seen  McAlpin, 
of  course,  and  heard  his  story?  " 

"  He  helped  me  bring  Mr.  Folger  home." 

"  He  is  naturally  greatly  excited.  Mr.  Folger  was 
his  liberal  patron.  His  death  may  mean  much  to  the 
man.  He  says  you  were  actually  on  the  spot,  and 
that  you  know  more  about  the  awful  affair  than 
anybody  else.  Dr.  Dale !  you  have  a  kind  heart. 
You  are  a  merciful  man.  Don't  add  to  the  miseries 
of  an  unfortunate  family.  I  sent  for  you  to  beg  — 
on  my  knees,  if  need  be,  for  I  am  brought  very  low  — 
my  pride  is  utterly  gone  !  —  to  beg  you  to  hold  back 


282  Dr.  Dale 

anything  that  would  set  this  lawless  community  against 
my  father,  or  lessen  Ruth  Folger's  regard  for  me  — 
for  us !  " 

Again  the  lines  of  the  impassive  visage  before  her 
were  stirred.  This  time  the  gleam  was  touched  with 
contempt.  The  last  luckless  slip  of  the  tongue  had 
betrayed  her.  The  faint  smile  stung  her  like  a  lash. 

She  was  standing  before  him,  —  for  he  had  declined 
to  sit  down,  —  her  hands  clasped  upon  her  breast, 
her  eyes,  wide  and  piteous,  raised  to  his.  She  was  a 
poseuse,  despite  the  terrible  sincerity  of  her  petition. 
Her  recoil  was  natural,  the  fling  of  her  hands  behind 
her  effective,  because  unstudied. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  thinking  !  You  despise  us 
as  her  pensioners.  You  have  never  believed  in  my 
friendship  for  her.  You  would  like  to  have  her  cast 
us  off  because  she  has  been  brought  to  think  that 
my  father  —  an  infirm,  timid  old  man,  —  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  her  brother's  death.  That  would 
strengthen  your  hold  upon  the  Folger  money,  and 
the  hold  the  Bells  are  getting  upon  Ruth." 

"  If  you  will  kindly  come  to  the  point  of  this  extra- 
ordinary attack,  I  shall  be  better  able  to  answer  you." 

The  chill  scorn  of  countenance  and  tone  were  a 
withering  black  frost.  She  had  spoiled  all  by  letting 
heat  get  the  better  of  her  discretion  for  one  minute. 
Stormy  scenes  with  Julia  and  with  Harriet  had 
abraded  her  nerves  and  weakened  self-control.  Su- 
peradded  to  these  was  the  passionate  resentment 
boiling  up  within  her  at  sight  and  hearing  of  the  man 
who  had  humbled  and  infuriated  her  as  no  mortal 
ever  had  before,  as  no  other  ever  could  humiliate  her 
again.  She  flung  the  reins  upon  the  neck  of  the  tem- 
per dreaded  by  her  dependants,  unsuspected  by  her 
superiors.  There  was  nothing  to  lose  with  this  man. 
He  might  be  bullied,  and  to  bully  him  would  relieve 
the  volume  of  pent-up  iury. 


In  the  Library  283 

Her  hands  clutched  and  pinched  one  another  be- 
hind her  back,  as  she  met  his  gaze  boldly,  and  dashed 
her  words  into  his  face,  — 

"  The  '  point '  is  just  this :  If  you  do  know  any- 
thing that  happened  night  before  last  that  would 
harm  my  father  if  it  were  told,  I  expect  you  to  keep 
it  to  yourself.  The  fire  was  an  accident.  A  careless 
workman  or  one  of  the  guards  may  have  dropped  a 
coal  from  his  pipe,  or  let  a  lighted  match  fall  into  the 
moat  .  Or,  the  lantern  which  people  who  did  not 
see  it  insist  was  carried  by  my  father,  fell  into  the 
oil.  /  insist  that  the  person  who  dropped  the  lantern 
was  not  my  father,  but  some  one  else  who  got  away 
unhurt.  Mr.  Folger  said  that  he  did  not  recognise 
the  incendiary.  He  died  without  suspecting  who  it 
was.  Would  not  he  have  known  Mr.  Meagley  in- 
stantly ?  What  I  expect  you  to  do  is  to  keep  these 
things  in  mind,  and  be  very  careful  what  you  say." 

"  Is  that  a  threat  ?  "  eyeing  her  with  tranquil  curi- 
osity, most  exasperating  because  she  could  not  resent 
it  in  words. 

"  It  may,  or  it  may  not  be."  She  was  regaining 
composure,  although  the  fingers  he  could  not  see 
still  scratched  and  tore  at  one  another.  "  If  I  make 
a  threat,  you  may  be  sure  it  will  be  carried  out.  We 
Meagleys  have  long  memories." 

"  Leaving  generalities,"  —  each  word  a  drop  of 
caustic,  —  "  let  me  say  that  I  have  already  been  called 
upon  by  six  newspaper  reporters,  not  to  mention 
many  other  people  —  all  upon  the  same  errand.  As 
soon  as  news  of  Mr.  Folger's  death  was  telegraphed 
to  other  places,  requests  for  particulars  were  poured 
into  our  telegraph  and  telephone  offices.  As  the  one 
man  —  as  you  have  remarked  —  who  was  an  eyewit- 
ness of  the  whole  affair,  I  was  applied  to  for  these 
particulars." 

Kate  Meagley  felt  herself  growing  sick  and  weak. 


284  Dr.  Dale 

She  sat  down,  and  rested  her  forehead  upon  her 
hand.  Dr.  Dale  remained  standing;  the  hard  cold- 
ness of  accent  and  eye  did  not  vary. 

"  I  said  to  each  caller,  without  invidious  comment, 
that  I  was  talking  with  Mr.  Folger  near  the  base  of 
the  hill  a  few  minutes  before  I  saw  him  turn  from  the 
road  and  begin  to  climb  the  hill.  At  the  same  in- 
stant I  caught  sight  of  the  person  he  was  pursuing. 
I  followed  him.  When  but  a  few  rods  away,  I  saw  a 
light  at  the  edge  of  the  trench  into  which  the  oil  from 
the  broken  tank  had  run.  I  distinctly  saw  a  man 
lighting  what  looked  like  slender  sticks,  by  a  lamp  or 
candle.  As  Mr.  Folger  reached  him,  the  man  threw 
the  blazing  sticks  into  the  trench.  The  oil  was  ig- 
nited and  rushed  over  the  edge  of  the  trench.  I  laid 
hold  of  Mr.  Folger,  and  kicked  the  other  man  down 
the  hill.  The  man,  when  picked  up,  proved  to  be 
Mr.  Meagley." 

As  the  merciless  narrator  went  on,  the  girl's  face 
was  bluish-white;  both  hands  were  pressed  hard 
upon  her  heart.  The  roaring  in  her  ears,  the  op- 
pression on  her  chest,  were  the  sensations  of  one 
drowning. 

"  You  are  quite  sure  ?  May  there  not  have  been 
some  mistake?"  she  faltered.  "It  was  night,  you 
know." 

"  I  saw  both  men  by  the  light  of  the  blazing  oil. 
When  asked  as  to  my  opinion  with  regard  to  Mr. 
Meagley's  presence  there  at  such  an  hour,  I  said  that 
he  is  a  monomaniac,  who  considers  himself  ill-used 
by  Mr.  Folger  and  other  successful  men  because  they 
would  not  share  their  profits  with  him.  That  I  had 
advised  his  family,  as  his  physician,  to  keep  a  close 
watch  upon  his  actions,  since  they  would  not  take  the 
wiser  course  of  sending  him  to  an  insane  asylum. 

"  This  is  the  substance  of  what  I  have  said  to  other 
people.  It  is  all  I  have  to  say  to  you." 


In  the  Library  285 

He  bowed,  walked  to  the  door  she  had  shut,  and 
set  it  wide  open. 

No  more  emphatic  indication  of  a  desire  to  end  an 
unpleasant  interview  can  be  given.  The  emphasis 
thus  conveyed  is  usually  an  insult,  and  is  designed  to 
be  construed  as  such. 

A  girl  dressed  in  black  was  crossing  the  central 
hall  on  the  way  from  the  conservatory  to  the  stair- 
case. Her  arms  were  full  of  Annunciation-lilies.  At 
sight  of  the  figure  in  the  doorway  of  the  library,  the 
pale  face  was  irradiated ;  a  low  cry  of  rapture  es- 
caped the  lips.  She  flew  as  straight  to  Dale  as  a 
wind-driven  bird  to  shelter,  never  observing  that  he 
was  not  alone. 

"  Love  !  my  Love  !  I  did  not  know  that  you  were 
here !  " 

He  took  her  in  his  arms,  lilies  and  all,  holding  her 
as  if  he  would  never  let  her  go. 

There  were  two  doors  to  the  library.  When  Dale 
drew  his  betrothed  into  the  room,  there  was  no  one 
there  but  themselves.  He  said  never  a  word  of  the 
interview  he  had  ended  emphatically.  The  woman 
who  had  threatened  him  was  unprincipled,  and  he 
had  made  her  desperate.  He  dismissed  all  thought 
of  her.  He  would  have  liked  to  open  the  window 
and  change  the  air  she  had  breathed  before  he  let  his 
darling  enter. 

Until  this  moment  he  had  not  seen  Myrtle  alone 
since  the  evening  when,  at  his  request,  she  had  sung 
"  Between  the  Lights ;  "  had  not  looked  into  the  dear 
eyes  since  they  laughed  back  at  him  as  she  cantered 
away  from  his  office-door,  a  gay  "  Au  revoir  !  "  upon 
her  tongue. 

Between  that  hour  and  this  he  had  waded  through 
the  deeps  of  hell,  had  tasted  the  bitterness  of 
death.  But  she  was  his  —  his  alone!  wedded  to  his 
soul  for  time  and  for  eternity.  Another  man  who 


286  Dr.  Dale 

had  loved  her  lay  dead  in  the  room  above  them. 
The  lilies  she  had  gathered  to  put  upon  the  stilled 
heart  were  heaped,  like  perfumed  sea-foam,  upon 
the  table  beside  them  while  they  talked,  and  while 
he  held  her  in  fierce  tenderness,  defiant  of  death 
and  the  pains  of  hell. 

"Mine!  mine!  MINE!"  he  uttered,  over  and  over, 
in  the  semi-delirium  of  one  who,  perishing  with 
thirst,  stoops  to  the  fountain. 

Then,  as  he  saw  how  wan  were  her  cheeks  when 
the  flush  of  meeting  had  passed,  how  languid  the 
eyes  from  much  weeping  and  loss  of  sleep,  his  heart 
smote  him  for  the  selfish  indulgence. 

"It  is  cruel  —  barbarous  —  forme  to  talk  of  my- 
self and  my  love  while  your  heart  is  so  heavy,"  he 
said.  "Ralph  was  very  dear  to  us  both." 

At  Ralph's  name  the  tears  gushed  afresh.  He 
drew  her  head  to  his  breast,  and  let  her  sob  herself 
calm  there.  It  was  her  resting-place,  her  home, 
her  shield  from  this  time  and  forevermore.  Come 
what  had  come,  come  what  might,  she  was  his,  wholly 
and  always. 

As  soon  as  the  poignancy  of  her  grief  should  be 
over,  when  the  friend  "dear  to  them  both"  should 
be  laid  away  in  his  last  resting-place,  and  the 
needful  legal  formalities  should  be  done  with,  he 
would  tell  her  that  there  was  no  longer  any  bar  to 
their  immediate  union,  break  to  her  the  news  of 
Ralph's  magnificent  bequest  to  them  —  to  her! 

When  they  had  borne  Ruth  away  from  her 
brother's  death-chamber,  she  had  besought  Myrtle 
to  stay  with  her. 

"He  loved  you  so  dearly!"  she  had  cried,  cling- 
ing to  her  friend's  neck.  "You  are  all  I  have  left 
of  him  ! " 

"You  must  stay!"  said  John,  and  Dr.  Dale  had 
not  gainsaid  the  verdict. 


In  the  Library  287 

He  said  now,  within  himself,  that  they  would 
live  close  to  Ruth  in  the  Future  so  blessedly  near 
at  hand.  The  stricken  woman  should  have  the  com- 
forter who,  she  fondly  believed,  would  have  been 
her  sister  had  her  idolised  brother  lived. 

Ah,  well!  let  her  believe  it,  so  long  as  his  love, 
himself  —  and  Ralph  —  knew  better! 

The  snow  had  begun  to  fall  when  Myrtle  quieted 
down  into  her  normal  self. 

A  great  bay-window  opened  upon  the  garden,  and 
they  went  over  to  sit  in  it  and  watch  the  fine,  soft 
flakes.  They  powdered  the  evergreens,  they  lodged 
in  the  crotches  of  naked  branches;  they  spread  a 
light  gray  lacy  web,  then  a  carpet  of  pure  wool, 
upon  the  faintly  greening  turf,  the  gravel-walks,  the 
asphalt  drive,  the  black  mould  of  beds  and  borders 
made  ready  for  spring  flowers.  The  ghostly  still- 
ness of  the  outer  world  was  in  close  touch  with  the 
death-hush  within  doors. 

"  We  cannot  be  glad.  It  will  be  a  long,  long  time 
before  we  can  be  light-hearted  again,"  whispered 
Myrtle,  nestling  into  the  firm  embrace  of  her 
lover's  arm.  "But  we  can  be  peaceful  and  thank- 
ful —  as  long  as  we  are  left  to  one  another.  Separa- 
tion would  be  worse  than  bereavement,  worse  than 
death  itself. 

"You  see,"  touching  her  skirt,  "I  have  put  on  a 
black  gown.  I  felt  like  doing  it,  and  I  knew  it 
would  gratify  Ruth,  and  I  thought  he  would  like  to 
know  it.  You  don't  mind  it,  do  you?  " 

"  I  mind  nothing  that  is  a  comfort  and  a  satisfac- 
tion to  you,  my  darling.  And,  as  Ruth  said,  Ralph 
loved  you  very  dearly." 

It  cost  him  no  effort  to  be  generous.  Was  she 
not  all  his, — heart  and  soul,  mind  and  body?  his 
leaf  of  healing,  his  pearl  of  great  price,  his  dove  of 
peace  ? 


288  Dr.  Dale 

He  liked  that  simile  best  of  all.  Such  peace  and 
gratitude  as  were  his,  sitting  in  the  summer  warmth 
of  the  hushed  room,  seeing  the  snow  cover  every- 
thing of  earthly  soil  out  of  sight  —  and  what  he  had 
sworn  was  dearer  to  him  than  his  soul's  salvation, 
in  his  arms. 

" '  Memory  past  and  present  fusing 
Into  one  swift,  shining  stream,' 

he  quoted  dreamily.  "  I  wish  '  Present  and  Future  ' 
would  scan!  '  Forgetting  the  things  that  are  be- 
hind,' we  live  and  love  in  one  eternal  Now." 

The  carpet  of  white  wool  was  a  three-ply,  many 
times  multiplied,  when  a  brougham,  curtains  down 
and  glasses  raised,  drove  under  the  window  and  down 
the  avenue. 

"  There  goes  Kate  Meagley  !  "  said  Myrtle.  "  She 
is  very  busy,  and  obliged  to  go  out  a  great  deal.  I 
am  thankful  to  be  able  to  stay  with  Ruth  in  her 
absence.  I  am  beginning  to  be  ashamed  of  my 
harsh  judgment  of  Kate.  I  don't  think  I  can  ever 
bring  myself  to  like  her  —  or  to  trust  her.  But  I 
cannot  help  respecting  her  —  somewhat  —  just  now. 
She  is  marvellously  efficient.  Her  gentleness  to 
me  is  marked.  She  has  not  said  one  —  feline  — 
thing  to  me.  Her  behaviour  to  Ruth  is  beyond 
praise.  Seeing  all  this  is  a  lesson  in  charitable 
judgment." 

Dr.  Dale  held  his  peace. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

UNDER  THE  SNOW 


"  So  passed  the  strong,  heroic  soul  away, 
And  when  they  buried  him,  the  little  port 
Had  seldom  seen  a  costlier  funeral." 

"  For  there  is  nothing  covered  that  shall  not  be  revealed." 


1 


snow-storm  that  had  set  in  quietly 
on  the  afternoon  of  the  sixteenth  day  of 
March,  with  no  portent  of  violence,  waxed, 
with  the  falling  of  the  night,  into  a  bliz- 
zard the  like  of  which  had  never  visited 
the  hill-locked  valley. 

Railways  were  blocked  by  the  close  of  the  second 
day  of  windy  storm  and  tempest;  in  the  narrower 
streets  the  snow  lay  even  with  the  sills  of  second- 
story  windows;  the  whirling  masses  filled  the  black- 
ened moat  below  the  ruined  well;  cottagers  were 
dug  out  of  their  hidden  houses,  as  sheep  out  of 
drifts;  drunkards,  reeling  homeward  from  saloons 
whither  they  had  gone  to  be  warmed  and  filled, 
sank  down  for  their  endless  slumber  under  a  fleecy 
coverlet,  and  were  not  found  until  March  suns 
changed  ice  and  snow  to  water. 

Ruth  Folger,  awaiting  patiently  the  postponed 
day  of  her  brother's  burial,  scanned  her  "  Inasmuch  " 
books  to  judge  who  would  be  most  seriously  affected 
by  the  loss  of  work  and  by  the  fierce  weather.  New 
cases  of  distress  were  hourly  added  to  the  list  by 
John  Bell  and  Dr.  Dale,  reports  rendered  the  more 
freely  because  each  appreciated  how  salutary  was 
the  occupation  thus  rendered  to  the  burdened  mind. 
By  her  orders,  gangs  of  men,  shut  off  from  well- 

•9 


290  Dr.  Dale 

work  and  transporting  oil  to  the  station  by  the 
depth  of  the  drifts,  were  set  about  clearing  streets 
and  roads,  and  carting  the  snow  thus  removed  out 
of  the  town,  receiving  for  their  labour  double  the 
wages  they  would  have  drawn  for  their  ordinary 
occupation.  To  each  gang  hot  coffee  was  served 
from  the  Club  House  kitchen  three  times  a  day,  a 
hot  meal  of  meat  and  vegetables  at  noon. 

"And  I  'm  to  tell  ye,  me  lads,  that  it 's  from  Mr. 
Ralph  Folger,  with  his  sister's  love,"  Big  Sandy, 
her  accredited  ambassador,  made  out  to  say  the  day 
the  gangs  began  work.  "Because,  she  says,  it's 
what  himself  would  have  done  if  he  were  here  the 
day." 

After  which  stammering  deliverance,  they  saw 
his  face  no  more  for  a  good  hour. 

On  the  twentieth  of  that  fateful  month  the 
mightiest  funeral  procession  the  hill-country  was 
ever  to  see  set  forth  from  the  stone  house  on  the 
South  Side,  for  the  cemetery  that  lay  about  "  Dom- 
inie Bell's"  church,  in  which  five  generations  of 
Folgers  had  worshipped  God  according  to  the  tradi- 
tions of  their  rustic  forbears. 

From  the  oriel  of  the  white  parlour,  the  bereaved 
sister,  whose  house  was  left  unto  her  desolate,  saw 
the  long  black  line  wind  through  the  hollow  ways 
hewn  in  the  snow  as  in  solid  marble.  Every  flag 
was  at  half-mast ;  the  responsive  tolling  of  bells 
thrilled  the  frosty  air.  The  weather  was  still  in- 
tensely cold  from  the  vast  bodies  of  snow  burying 
the  earth  out  of  sight  for  fifty  miles  around,  but 
there  was  no  wind,  and  the  sunshine  was  heartlessly 
bright. 

Behind  the  carriages  and  horsemen  walked  hun- 
dreds of  working-men,  each  decent  coat-sleeve  and 
hat  banded  with  crape.  The  like  badge  of  mourn- 
ing fluttered  from  many  a  tenement-house  window, 


Under  the  Snow  291 

and  drooped  from  cottage  door-knobs.  Back  of 
closed  windows,  women,  children,  and  old  men 
crowded  the  panes  to  see,  with  tear-blurred  eyes, 
the  last  of  one  all  acknowledged  as  benefactor  and 
friend.  Under  the  limitless  hollow  of  wintry  blue 
there  was  no  sound  but  the  rhythmic  beat  of  the 
bells,  the  creak  and  crunch  of  wheels  in  the  pol- 
ished ruts  worn  in  the  snow. 

The  forest  of  derricks  arose,  gaunt  and  black, 
from  the  dazzling  surface;  pumps  were  silent,  and 
the  tall  chimneys  smokeless.  All  Pitvale  mourned 
as  the  heart  of  one  man  for  the  young,  exuberant 
life  so  pitilessly  quenched. 

As  John  Bell  read  of  the  Resurrection  and  the 
Life  in  the  crowded  church,  —  summoning  all  the 
forces  of  his  strong  soul  to  command  his  voice  and 
to  stifle  the  pleadings  of  his  brother-heart  for  the 
right  to  bow  as  a  mourner  beside  the  coffin,  instead 
of  standing  as  priest  above  it,  —  Myrtle  knelt  by 
Ruth's  chair,  and  they  comforted  one  another  with 
the  same  divine  words. 

No  one  was  present,  besides  themselves,  while  the 
low,  girlish  tones  read  the  simple,  beautiful  service. 
No  one  interrupted  them  during  the  solemn  hour 
that  followed.  The  great  common  sorrow  had  knit 
their  hearts  very  closely  together  in  these  last  ter- 
rible days. 

"I  am  selfish,  I  know,"  Ruth  said,  that  evening, 
as  John  Bell  was  bidding  her  "  Good-night."  "But 
her  going  will  take  so  much  from  me !  If  you  coula 
spare  her  to  me  a  few  days  longer,  it  would  be  a 
great  comfort." 

John  looked  an  inquiry  which  Ruth  did  not  see. 

"  I  will  stay ! "  said  Myrtle,  promptly. 

Ruth  thanked  them,  without  in  the  least  suspect- 
ing the  nature  or  degree  of  the  sacrifice  made  for 
her  "  comfort. " 


292  Dr.  Dale 

It  was  no  time  for  stories  of  love  and  betrothal. 
John  repressed  the  longing,  at  times  almost  intoler- 
able, to  offer  the  bereaved  woman  the  devotion  of 
his  tender,  constant  soul,  to  assert  his  right  to  stand 
nearest  and  dearest  to  her  in  her  hour  of  supreme 
need.  In  the  early  transports  of  her  grief.it  would 
be  indelicate,  according  to  his  chivalric  code,  to 
obtrude  his  claims.  After  a  little  while  he  might 
speak,  and  she  might  listen,  and,  he  fondly  hoped, 
find  surcease  of  pain  in  the  certainty  of  his  love. 

Dr.  Dale  came  daily  as  physician  and  friend,  and 
left  directions  with  Miss  Bell  when  the  professional 
call  was  over.  The  grateful  patient  knew  nothing 
of  his  changed  relations  to  her  friend.  Therefore 
she  could  not  guess  at  the  thoughts  which  flew 
yearningly,  during  the  quiet  evenings  in  the  white 
parlour,  to  the  room  deserted  by  both  men  in  Myrtle's 
absence.  The  vision  of  the  chilly  gloom,  brooding 
where  warmth  and  heart-cheer  had  reigned  for  two 
idyllic  months;  the  vacant  arm-chair  before  the  fire- 
less  hearth,  the  silent  piano,  the  absence  of  the 
Presence  that  made  it  Home  to  the  trio,  —  pained 
and  oppressed  her. 

On  three  evenings  of  that  week  John  took  his 
sister's  place  as  reader,  companion,  and  custodian, 
and  sent  her  off  to  walk  under  Dr.  Dale's  escort. 

They  were  back  within  an  hour  each  time,  for  it 
was  a  sickly  season,  fraught  with  coughs,  colds,  and 
consumption,  the  dregs  of  the  hard  winter  that 
seemed  endless.  If  Myrtle  brought  fresher  roses 
and  brightened  eyes  to  her  friend's  room  on  her 
return,  exercise  and  fresh  air  accounted  for  them. 

Kate  Meagley  "found  Miss  Bell's  visit  such  a 
blessing"  at  that  particular  juncture.  Her  father 
continued  very  ill,  so  shattered  in  mind  and  body 
as  to  demand  continual  care,  and  the  whole  family 
regarded  the  middle  daughter  as  a  mainstay.  She 


Under  the  Snow  293 

passed  several  hours  of  each  day  in  the  paternal 
abode,  and  more  than  once  came  home  so  worn  out 
in  nerve  as  to  be  compelled  to  go  at  once  to  her 
chamber  and  to  bed.  She  was  exquisitely  sensitive, 
according  to  compassionate  Ruth,  and  the  part  her 
unhappy  parent  had  taken  in  the  late  tragedy  told 
upon  her  sadly. 

Then  a  rain-storm  set  in,  converting  the  snow- 
wastes  into  gray  slush,  flooding  the  streets  and 
making  out-door  exercise  impracticable.  It  was  a 
dreary,  dreadful  interval  between  a  prolonged  and 
a  tardy  season. 

When  the  sun  shone  again,  he  was  convoyed  by 
bitter  east  winds  that  froze  the  slush  into  solid  rock. 

March  was  outdoing  herself,  making  a  record  she 
would  find  it  hard  to  break  in  years  to  come. 

Upon  the  tenth  day  of  Myrtle's  sojourn  in  the 
Folger  house,  her  brother  brought  Jeff  to  spend  the 
afternoon  with  her.  Ruth  had  given  him  a  confi- 
dential commission  to  that  effect,  and  smiled  hap- 
pily at  the  delighted  surprise  in  her  friend's 
countenance  at  sight  of  him. 

The  little  fellow  had  been  at  a  loss  how  to  dispose 
of  his  superabundance  of  leisure  and  himself,  with 
Miss  Bell  away  all  the  time,  Mr.  Bell  and  Dr.  Dale 
hardly  ever  at  home,  even  at  meal-times,  and  Beau- 
tiful a  resident,  with  his  mistress,  of  Miss  Folger's 
house.  Ruth  was  a  prime  favourite  with  Jeff;  a 
visit  to  her  a  treat  that  nearly  made  him  forget  his 
mother's  injunction  to  "move  very  quietly  and  speak 
softly,"  when  with  one  whose  brother  "had  just 
gone  to  heaven." 

Myrtle  caught  him  from  John's  hand,  with  a  hug, 
and  a  kiss  that  gladdened  his  inmost  soul. 

"  My  boy !  my  dear,  dear  boy ! "  she  said,  her  tones 
so  heartsome  that  he  clasped  her  neck  in  an  ecstasy 
of  relief. 


294  -r«       ae 

"  Oh-h !  "  he  breathed  in  her  ear.  "  I  was  afraid 
you  'd  be  crying  all  the  whole  time ! " 

Myrtle  lifted  him  to  her  knee,  undid  his  wrap- 
pings, and  laid  her  face  to  his, —  cold,  round,  and 
rosy. 

"  How  good  it  feels ! "  she  said.  "  No,  dear !  we 
do  not  think  our  dear  Mr.  Folger  would  like  us  to 
be  crying  all  the  time,  because  he  is  so  much  hap- 
pier than  we  could  make  him.  He  liked  to  have 
happy  people  about  him,  you  know.  Go  to  Miss 
Ruth  now!  She  is  waiting  to  speak  to  you." 

Seated  in  a  chair  just  his  size,  set  at  Miss  Ruth's 
left  hand,  a  new  top,  of  a  pattern  hitherto  unknown 
to  him,  in  one  hand,  a  gorgeous  picture-book  in  the 
other,  a  seductive  picture  of  bon-bons  before  the 
eyes  of  his  fancy,  — the  important  small  person  was 
not  forsaken  by  all  his  wits. 

"We  meeted  Dr.  Dale  in  the  street,"  he  informed 
Myrtle,  seriously  conscientious.  "  He  gived  me  a 
peticular  message  for  you.  He  says  you  are  going 
to  walk  me  them  —  those  —  no!  these  two  miles  to- 
day that  you  promised.  He  says  be  sure  to  put  on 
rubber  shoes  with  roughed  soles.  'Cause  the  walk- 
ing is  very  slippy." 

John  Bell  clapped  his  hands. 

"  Bravo  !  my  man  !  Very  well  done  !  Verbatim, 
if  not  literatim  !  Allowances  must  be  made  for  the 
medium  of  transmission.  Miss  Kate  is  at  home  to- 
day, pet,  and  you  must  follow  the  doctor's  prescrip- 
tion. You  will  be  better  for  the  tramp  after  being 
storm-bound  so  long.  The  walking  is  more  toler- 
able than  might  have  been  expected.  What  is  left 
of  the  snow  has  settled  into  a  hard  crust." 

He  moved  over  to  Ruth  and  looked  down  upon 
her  with  love-full  eyes. 

"Before  the  next  snow  flies  we  shall  have  this 
little  lady  ready  for  snow-shoes  and  skates." 


Under  the  Snow  295 


The  softest  imaginable  shade  of  pink,  delicate  as 
that  which  dashes  the  outer  petals  of  a  bride-rose, 
tinged  Ruth's  cheeks  at  this,  the  first  allusion  he 
had  made  to  his  knowledge  of  her  precious  secret, 
and  what  it  might  involve  for  them. 

She  put  out  her  hand  impulsively.  It  was  en- 
closed in  both  of  his. 

Myrtle  lifted  Jeff  to  the  floor. 

"The  very  best  place  for  spinning  that  top  is  the 
conservatory,"  she  declared.  "The  floor  there  is 
all  marble.  Come!" 

The  conservatory  was  as  warm  and  bright  as  June. 
A  mocking-bird's  cage  hung  in  the  branches  of  an 
orange-tree.  The  orange-tree  was  in  bloom,  and 
the  bird  was  singing.  Rows  of  stately  lilies  faced 
a  bank  of  roses;  orchids  vibrated,  like  birds-of-para- 
dise  all  a-flutter,  in  the  wafts  of  sun-filled  air  rising 
to  the  domed  roof. 

After  setting  the  top  going,  Myrtle  strolled  slowly 
up  and  down  the  aisle,  basking  in  the  light,  inhal- 
ing the  fragrant  air,  and  thinking  her  own  beautiful 
thoughts. 

She  was  going  "  home  "  in  two  days  more !  Kate 
Meagley  had  been  to  her  room  that  forenoon  to 
thank  her  for  her  "great  kindness,"  and  to  report 
her  father  as  so  far  convalescent  that  he  could  be 
left  to  the  care  of  his  wife  and  four  resident  daugh- 
ters. She  had  talked  quietly,  unaffectedly,  and  sadly 
of  the  event  that  had  plunged  two  households  into 
mourning.  Her  unhappy  father  would  be  sent  to  a 
private  Retreat,  as  soon  as  he  could  be  moved.  It 
was  best  so.  She  did  not  say,  but  Myrtle  surmised 
correctly,  that  the  Retreat  was  an  expensive  shelter, 
and  that  Ruth  Folger  would  defray  the  costs  of  the 
monomaniac's  keeping. 

In  her  heart  Myrtle  could  not  but  honour  the  girl 
for  the  manner  in  which  she  had  comported  herself 


296  Dr.  Dale 

of  late.  She  had  shielded  Ruth  from  disturbances 
from  without;  directed  the  servants,  received  calls, 
and  answered  notes,  yet  continued  to  give  part  of 
each  day  to  her  distressed  family,  loyally  resolute, 
it  would  seem,  to  show  to  a  censorious  public  that 
she  would  stand  by  kith  and  kin,  whatever  happened. 
To  a  generous  nature  there  is  pure  satisfaction  in 
reversing  an  uncharitable  opinion  of  a  fellow-creat- 
ure. Myrtle  was  glad  to  think  kindly  and  compas- 
sionately of  the  Middle  Miss  Meagley. 

"  Egbert  says  it  is  only  the  untempted  who  have  a 
show  of  right  to  judge  harshly  of  the  sinner,"  she 
thought.  'Put  yourself  in  his  place,'  is  his  favour- 
ite motto.  "  I  must  put  myself  to  school  to  him  in 
the  matter  of  Christian  charity.  Others  preach  it. 
He  practises  it." 

The  swift,  shining  stream  of  her  musings  did  not 
dally  long  with  Kate  Meagley  and  abstract  moralis- 
ings.  Dearly  as  she  loved  Ruth,  it  was  natural  'that 
her  heart  should  be  "light  as  it  had  wings,"  in  an- 
ticipating the  return  to  the  fondly  familiar  round  of 
every-day  life  at  Mrs.  Bowersox's.  She  had  so  much 
to  say,  and  so  much  more  to  hear,  that  she  could 
scarcely  wait  forty-eight  hours  longer. 

Egbert  was  grievously  shaken  by  Ralph  Folger's 
death  and  the  attendant  circumstances.  He  could 
not  refer  to  them  without  an  exhibition  of  emotion 
that  did  not  accord  with  his  habitual  self-control. 
He  looked  jaded  and  careworn,  and,  in  reply  to  his 
fianceVs  anxious  inquiries,  had  confessed  that  his 
old  enemy,  insomnia,  was  in  full  possession  of  the 
hours  that  should  bring  rest  in  sleep. 

He  had  told  her  that,  on  her  first  evening  at 
home,  they  "must  have  a  long  business-talk,"  and 
at  her  solicitous  exclamation  had  added,  with  the 
grave  tender  smile  oftener  upon  his  lips  now  than 
the  flashing  gleam  that  used  to  change  his  whole 


Under  the  Snow  297 

visage,  — that  "there  was  nothing  to  make  her  un- 
easy. She  must  trust  him  yet  a  little  while." 

Ignorant  of  the  fact  that  Ralph  Folger's  will  was 
that  day  admitted  to  probate,  and  that  the  singular 
provisions  of  the  instrument  were  no  secret  to  any- 
body in  town  except  herself,  —  Ruth,  by  John's  ad- 
vice, having  refrained  from  speaking  of  them  to  her 
or  to  Kate,  —  she  had  not  the  most  shadowy  idea  of 
what  the  purport  of  the  business-talk  would  be. 
Only  that  she  must  go  on  believing  in  Egbert. 

"  Trust  him !  "  She  said  it  aloud,  looking  through 
the  bowery  leafage  and  bloom  to  the  sun  shining  in 
his  strength.  "To  the  death!  As  if  anything 
could  shake  my  faith!" 

"Yes,  Miss  Bell?"  responded  Jeff,  politely,  from 
the  marble  floor  and  the  humming-top. 

"I  did  not  speak  to  you,  dear.     Are  you  happy?  " 

"Very  happy,  thank  you,  Miss  Bell!"  primly,  but 
heartily. 

"So  am  I,  in  heart!"  strolling  to  the  far  end  of 
the  flower-lined  alley  as  she  soliloquised,  smiles 
upon  lip  and  in  the  earnest,  sensitive  eyes.  "Very 
peaceful  and  thankful.  Such  peace  as  even  sorrow 
cannot  take  away." 

At  three  o'clock  she  and  Jeff  set  out,  in  good 
heart,  for  the  two-mile  walk.  The  spring  sun  had 
melted  the  ice  from  the  board  sidewalks,  leaving 
them  so  wet  and  sloppy  that  the  pedestrians  were 
glad  to  quit  them  as  soon  as  they  struck  a  path 
through  a  vacant  lot,  as  a  cross-cut  to  the  open 
country. 

The  most  nearly  romantic  walk  Myrtle  had  ex- 
plored in  her  many  tramps  in  the  environs  of  Pit- 
vale  lay  along  and  across  what  was  known  to  the 
country  people  as  "The  Glen,"  an  irregular  ravine 
winding  between  steep  banks  fringed  with  bushes, 
down  to  a  narrow  strip  of  meadow-land  washed  by 


298  Dr.  Dale 

the  creek.  A  bustling  little  brook  ran  in  the  bot- 
tom of  the  gully  and  cut  a  crooked  streak  in  the 
meadow  in  its  impatience  to  throw  itself  into  the 
full-grown  water-course.  One  of  the  few  belts  of 
native  forest  that  had  once  covered  acres  of  farm- 
land bounded  the  farther  side  of  the  glen. 

Jeff  gave  his  companion  to  understand  that  this 
was  one  of  his  stamping-grounds.  He  had  been  in 
those  woods  many  and  many  a  time.  Leastways, 
Mr.  Bell  had  walked  him  there  oncet  —  or  may 
'twas  twicet.  And  Dr.  Dale  had  rided  him  there 
one  other  day.  In  a  buggy  and  a  horse.  There  were 
ten  millions  of  white  flowers  on  the  trees  that  day. 

"  Oh,  Jeff  dear !    Ten  millions  ?  " 

"Tenny  rate,  there  were  a  hundred.  Dr.  Dale 
cutted  off  a  big  bunch  for  me.  They  did  not  have 
any  smell,  but  they  were  nice.  I  fink  he  said  they 
were  dogwood.  Or,  perhaps,  catwood.  I  don't  just 
remember.  I  saw  a  squirrel.  He  ranned  up  a  tree. 
And  a  rabbit  with  a  funny  stuck-up  tail.  He  ranned 
away  in  the  bushes.  Never-an-never  so  fast.  Dr. 
Dale  said  'cause  he  couldn't  climb  a  tree.  His  feet 
weren't  made  right,  you  know.  Wouldn't  you  like 
to  get  across  the  gully,  Miss  Bell?  You  just  come 
down  this  way.  I  '11  show  you.  Me  and  Dr.  Dale 
went  acrost  it.  He  tied  the  buggy  to  a  tree  this 
side." 

Prattling  as  fast  as  his  tongue  could  wag,  he 
scampered  on  ahead.  The  ravine  was  choked  with 
snow  for  some  distance.  The  shrubs,  thrusting 
dark  tips  through  the  crust,  reminded  Myrtle  of 
black  pins  in  a  white  cushion.  She  spoke  of  it  to 
Jeff,  and  both  laughed.  The  crisp,  pure  air  had  got 
into  veins  and  head.  She  could  have  danced  and 
sung  as  they  broke  their  way  through  the  bushes. 
A  row  of  pines  grew  in  the  edge  of  the  wood  close 
to  the  brink  of  the  gully.  She  stopped  to  listen 


Under  the  Snow  299 

to  the  "hush!  hush!  hush!"  of  the  wind  in  the 
plumy  branches. 

Pines  sing  the  same  song  all  around  the  world. 
She  loved  them  and  their  music  and  their  scent. 
Some  day  she  would  ask  Egbert  why  he  "  hated  "  it. 

When  she  was  a  little  girl,  she  used  to  persuade 
John  to  swing  her  hammock  between  two  tall  pines 
upon  the  lawn  of  a  farmhouse  where  they  spent 
several  summers.  The  long-drawn  sighs  always  put 
her  to  sleep. 

A  plantation  of  scrub-pines  filled  up  the  shallow 
end  of  the  ravine  where  it  lost  itself  in  the  meadow. 

Cones  had  doubtless  fallen  from  the  larger  trees 
above,  and  taken  root  in  the  clayey  soil.  The  low- 
lands were  one  glare  of  ice  left  by  the  receding 
freshet. 

Myrtle  called  to  Jeff  to  go  carefully  lest  he  should 
slip.  Beautiful  bounded  down  the  hill  to  overtake 
him,  warned  by  his  mistress's  accent  that  there  was 
danger  somewhere.  Before  she  came  up  with  them 
she  heard  the  child's  gleeful  shout,  and  an  odd 
sound  as  of  a  pickaxe  striking  upon  ice.  Jeff  was 
capering  with  delight,  and  clapping  his  hands. 

"Oh,  Miss  Bell!  look  at  Beautiful!  I  do  'spect 
it 's  a  rabbit  —  or  maybe  a  squirrel  —  or  maybe  a 
woodchucker  he  's  after !  " 

The  dog  was  digging  frantically  with  his  forepaws 
into  a  heap  of  frozen  snow  lodged  under  the  scrub- 
pines,  fragments  flying  about  him  like  a  sleet-storm. 

Myrtle  pressed  forward  and  seized  him  by  the 
collar. 

"  Beautiful !  no  !  no,  sir !  What  do  you  want  with 
a  harmless  little  rabbit  ?  " 

The  dog  paid  no  heed.  A  large  piece  of  snow- 
crust  hit  her  in  the  face.  She  released  the  excited 
creature,  and  staggered  back,  clearing  her  smarting 
eyes  with  both  hands. 


300  Dr.  Dale 

Jeff's  shriek  was  a  different  note  from  his  scream 
of  enjoyment  in  the  dog's  exploit. 

"  Oh !  oh !  oh !  See  what  he  's  done ! " 
The  digger  had  uncovered  a  woman's  arm  em- 
bedded in  the  snow-ice.  The  sleeve,  revealed  to  the 
shoulder,  was  of  black  stuff.  The  bare  hand,  frozen 
into  chalky  whiteness,  clutched  a  bunch  of  yellow 
willow  twigs. 

"  Oh,  Jeff !  stand  back !     What  is  it  ? " 
"I  fink,"  —  solemnly  deliberative,    "it  must  be- 
long to  the  lady  we  sawed  the  other  day.     The  end 
of  her  finger  is  broked  off. " 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

CORONER  KRUGER 

"  First  Grave-digger.     But  is  this  law? 

"  Second  Grave-digger.    Ay,  marry,  is  't,  crowner's  quest  law. " 

PITVALE  justice,  like  Pitvale  sanitary  con- 
ditions, pavements,  and  schools,  had  by  no 
means  kept  pace  with  the  growth  and  wealth 
of  the  town. 
The  place  was  a  rank  mushroom,  born  of 
Oil,  reared  and  nourished  by   Greed,   Money,    and 
Excitement.      Something    must   be    left   unfinished. 
In  this  case  there  were  numerous  things. 

The  town  was  the  county-seat,  it  is  true,  and 
boasted  a  two-storied  stuccoed  Court-house,  which 
was  also  the  City  Hall  and  the  local  jail,  part  of  which 
was  the  jailer's  private  residence. 

The  second  floor  of  the  Court-house  consisted  of 
one  large  room  with  three  smaller  at  the  right  and 
left,  used  as  clerks'  offices  and  jury-room.  In  the 
central  chamber  every  case,  criminal  or  civil  —  from 
a  "  drunk  and  disorderly "  up  to  a  legal  squabble 
over  the  ownership  of  a  hundred  thousand  dollar  oil- 
well  —  was  adjudicated.  Here  public  meetings  were 
held,  —  municipal,  political,  philanthropic,  and  even 
religious. 

The  first  floor  was  occupied  by  "  Bat "  Sydney,  the 
jailer,  his  wife  and  their  two  children.  It  was  roomy 
and  comfortable,  for  "  Bat "  was  a  man  of  conse- 
quence, combining  with  that  of  jailer  the  offices  of 
deputy  county-clerk  and  deputy-sheriff. 

In  the  basement  were  some  eight  or  ten  strong 


302  Dr.  Dale 

cells.  The  collection  was  dignified  by  the  name  of 
"  The  Jail  "  proper. 

Except  in  one  instance,  when  an  oilman  had  shot 
his  opponent  at  cards,  and  another,  when  Mrs.  Bower- 
sox's  wash  had  been  painlessly  extracted  from  the 
lines  by  a  negro  who  was  caught  white-handed  in 
the  act  and  consigned  to  the  jail  (Mrs.  Bowersox 
daily  sending  jelly  and  chicken  and  mince-pies  to  the 
"  poor  dear,"  until  he  was  removed,  at  the  end  of 
thirty  days,  to  the  penitentiary),  the  lock-up,  up  to 
date,  had  been  merely  the  depository,  for  brief  pe- 
riods, of  certain  inebriated  oilmen  and  loafers  in 
general,  who  were  lodged  there  until  they  had  slept 
off  their  quarrelsome  fits  and  were  ready  to  accumu- 
late another  "  load." 

Pitvale,  albeit  it  had  had  enough  sensations  lately 
to  sate  a  town  ten  times  its  size,  arose  ravenously  to 
a  bait  the  like  of  which  had  never  been  thrown  to  it 
before.  Heretofore  its  misdeeds  had  been  done  in 
the  open.  There  had  never  been  a  Murder  mystery 
worthy  of  commemoration  in  inch-long  capitals  and 
flaring  head-lines  in  metropolitan  papers.  The  town, 
although  horrified,  was  a  trifle  vain  of  the  distinction. 

Accordingly,  on  the  morning  set  for  the  Inquest  in 
the  case  of  the  dead  woman  who  had  been  found  on 
the  bank  of  Ranken's  Creek  two  days  ago,  the  Court- 
room was  packed  to  the  very  doors,  and  a  throng  of 
grease-grimed  oilmen  and  inquisitive  women  hung 
about  the  stairways  and  the  front  porch.  Little  work 
was  done  at  any  well.  Everybody  took  a  day  off. 
The  streets  were  almost  deserted  and  quieter  than  on 
Sunday.  All  Pitvale  was  at  the  Court-house.  All 
who  could  squeeze  in  were  in  the  Court-room. 

Samuel  Johnson  Kruger,  M.D.,  had  run  for  Coro- 
ner the  year  before  and  got  the  appointment,  an 
honour  damaged  on  the  way  to  him  by  the  knowledge 
that  Dr.  Dale  had  positively  refused  to  allow  his 


Coroner  Kruger  303 

name  to  be  mentioned  in  connection  with  the  office. 
To-day  Dr.  Kruger  felt  himself,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  professional  career,  to  be  in  his  true  element.  He 
was,  at  last,  the  centre  of  public  interest.  He  had 
been  Pitvale's  leading  doctor  in  days  when,  as  a 
country  practitioner,  he  had  gleaned  a  scanty  liveli- 
hood in  a  sparsely  settled  district. 

Then  had  come  the  oil-boom,  and  the  consequent 
influx  of  population.  The  village  swelled  into  a 
town ;  the  town  promised  to  grow  into  a  city.  Samuel 
Kruger  forecast  a  future  of  wealth  and  renown  for 
himself.  His  lack  of  skill,  and  the  address  that  often 
in  his  profession  atones  with  the  ignorant  majority 
for  deficiency  in  skill,  resulting  in  more  than  one  dis- 
astrous blunder,  were  for  a  time  readily  condoned 
in  a  rough-and-ready  community,  only  too  thankful 
to  have  a  doctor  of  any  sort  within  easy  call. 

He  prospered,  adding  case  to  case,  and  dollar  to 
dollar,  until  Dr.  Dale  appeared  upon  the  small 
stage.  Workingmen  and  adventurers  are  quick 
to  size  up  a  man,  and  Kruger  suffered  in  the  com- 
parison. With  growing  hatred  for  the  supplanter, 
he  had  to  stand  aside  and  see  his  patients,  one  after 
another,  turn  from  him  to  this  upstart ;  to  see  the 
few  wealthy  families  of  the  place  employ  the  specious 
new-comer;  to  note  the  difference  between  Dale's 
grave,  easy  manner  and  consummate  skill,  and  his 
own  bluster,  his  illiteracy,  and  ignorance  of  the 
subtler  brands  of  his  calling. 

The  consciousness  of  inferiority  hurt  him  even 
more  than  the  steady  loss  of  practice. 

The  climax  came  in  the  form  of  a  stray  speech  of 
Ralph  Folger,  retailed  to  Kruger  by  some  kind  well- 
wisher,  — 

"  Dale  has  Manner:  Kruger  has  n't  even  manners." 

Close  upon  this  came  Dale's  nomination  as  Coro- 
ner; his  prompt  refusal  of  the  office,  and  his  sag- 


304  Dr.  Dale 

gestion  that  the  post  be  offered  to  his  less  fortunate 
rival.  Kruger  accepted  the  position,  and  cordially  de- 
tested the  man  at  whose  motion  it  was  given  to  him. 

Now,  however,  for  one  bright,  if  brief  day,  he  was 
the  hero  of  an  Occasion,  and  Dale  was  not  even  in 
court.  It  irked  the  official  that  his  enemy  should 
not  be  a  witness  of  his  triumph.  Since  Dale  had  be- 
come a  millionaire  (a  fresh  grievance),  Kruger  sup- 
posed sourly  that  he  would  feel  little  interest  in 
Pitvale  affairs.  With  all  his  elation,  the  Coroner  was 
somewhat  nervous.  It  was  his  maiden  experience  in 
an  affair  of  such  magnitude.  Despite  hard  study  of 
buff  calfskin  books  over-night,  he  was  not  quite  sure 
as  to  the  law  regarding  inquests  in  the  case  of  a  pos- 
sible homicide.  Like  many  a  wiser  man,  he  resolved 
to  rule  arbitrarily  upon  doubtful  points,  carrying  the 
matter  with  a  high  hand,  and  taking  the  chances  that 
nobody  in  the  motley  throng  before  him  was  better 
posted  than  himself. 

The  initial  steps  of  the  Inquest  were  taken  in  com- 
parative security.  A  fleeting  smile  from  Hendrick- 
son,  the  Folgers'  lawyer,  who,  by  virtue  of  his 
profession,  sat  just  within  the  bench  enclosure  and 
let  no  stage  of  the  proceedings  escape  him,  warned 
Kruger  now  and  then  that  he  was  skating  upon  thin 
ice,  and  he  invariably  glided  over  to  the  next  point. 

The  task  of  impanelling  a  jury  was  plain  sailing. 
Half  of  Pitvale  was  eager  to  serve.  True,  Barney 
Crogan  refused  to  sit  on  the  same  jury  with  Elihu 
Maxwell,  upon  the  ground  that  the  latter  had  owed 
him  four  dollars  for  six  months,  and  was  therefore 
not  a  fit  person  to  decide  what  was  or  was  not  a 
square  trial. 

Kruger  frowned  down  the  hilarity  excited  in  the 
audience  by  the  original  objection,  and  hastened  to 
overrule  it  by  explaining  in  his  best  chest-tone  and 
second-best  legal  phraseology,  that  the  fact  of  the 


Coroner  Kruger  305 

said  Maxwell's  having  owed  the  said  Crogan  the  sum 
of  four  dollars  no  cents  for  six  months,  had  no  real 
bearing  upon  the  case  in  point,  and  did  not,  per  se, 
disqualify  the  said  Elihu  Maxwell  from  determining 
by  what  means  the  deceased  woman  —  whom  the 
Court  (for  the  lack  of  a  better  name)  would  desig- 
nate as  Jane  Doe  —  came  to  her  death. 

The  last  juror  was  at  length  sworn  in,  and  Kruger, 
hiding  a  tremor  under  an  access  of  bluster,  opened 
the  Inquest. 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  up  to  this  moment  not  ten 
people  in  the  room  felt  the  occasion  to  be  solemn, 
much  less  momentous  to  any  person  or  persons  pres- 
ent. Curiosity  had  drawn  them  together,  and  they 
were  wide  awake  to  the  element  of  the  farcical  already 
introduced  into  the  proceedings  by  the  squabble  be- 
tween the  jurors  and  the  overstrained  dignity  of  the 
presiding  officer. 

"The  investigation,  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury  and  fel- 
low-citizens," he  began,  his  voice  going  flat,  then 
abruptly  scaling  a  whole  octave,  "  in  the  case  of 
Jane  Doe  will  now  begin.  By  virtue  of  my  position 
as  Coroner  of  this  town,  I  will  state  briefly,  that  said 
Jane  Doe,  apparently  thirty  years  of  age,  habitat 
unknown  —  " 

Here  Hendrickson  smiled,  and  Kruger  went  on 
more  loudly, — 

"  Habitat  unknown,  was  found  dead  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  stream  known  as  Ranken's  Creek,  at  a 
point  about  one-half  mile  below  the  Bradfield  Road 
on  last  Monday  afternoon,  March  twenty-six,  at  about 
four  o'clock  P.  M.  by  Miss  Myrtle  Bell,  sister  of  Rev- 
erend John  Bell  of  this  place.  As  coroner  and  phy- 
sician, I  examined  the  body  of  the  deceased. 

"  She  was  five  feet  six  inches  in  height  and  slightly 
built.  The  second  joint  of  the  little  finger  of  right 
hand  was  missing.  The  injury  was  plainly  of  long 


306  Dr.  Dale 

standing,  as  was  shown  by  the  cicatriced  sear.  Her  hair 
was  dark ;  her  hands  were  those  of  a  working- woman. 
Her  clothing  was  of  cheap  material,  but  neat  and 
whole.  The  underclothing  was  home-made.  She 
wore  knitted  stockings,  a  black  stuff  gown,  no  gloves, 
stout  shoes,  and  a  black  straw  hat  with  a  crape  veil. 
There  was  no  mark  upon  the  handkerchief  in  her 
pocket,  or  upon  any  of  her  clothing,  and  no  papers 
of  any  description  upon  the  body.  Her  only  orna- 
ment was  a  gold  breastpin  —  or  brooch  —  in  the  form 
of  a  bunch  of  grapes,  the  pin  of  which  had  been 
broken  and  fastened  on  with  a  bit  of  wire  —  a  circum- 
stance trifling  in  itself,  but  testifying  that  she  was 
a  countrywoman,  and  could  not  get  at  a  jeweller  in 
such  an  emergency." 

Hendrickson  raised  his  hand  to  smother  a  smile  — 
or  a  yawn.  The  Coroner  had  read  thus  far  from  his 
note-book.  He  trusted  to  his  professional  memory 
for  the  next  particulars :  — 

"  The  presumption  that  the  said  Jane  Doe  came  to 
her  death  by  violence  at  the  hands  of  some  person  or 
persons  unknown  is  made  clear  to  the  Court  by  the 
circumstance  that  there  was  a  contusion  and  a  scalp 
wound,  as  from  a  heavy  blow  with  a  blunt  instrument, 
at  the  conjunction  of  the  occipital  and  left  parietal 
bones  —  of  the  cranium,  I  may  explain,  for  the  bene- 
fit of  such  of  you  as  are  not  versed  in  technical  terms. 
The  blow  upon  the  head  was  sufficient  to  have  caused 
her  death,  and  effectually  disposes  of  the  hypothesis 
of  suicide." 

The  crowd  had  stilled  down  into  respectful  atten- 
tion. The  case  was  taking  on  a  grave  aspect.  The 
Coroner's  spirits  rose,  his  voice  with  them,  — 

"  But  the  further  presumption  is  that  the  said  Jane 
Doe,  stunned  or  dead,  as  the  case  may  be,  was  then 
thrown  into  the  stream  known  among  you  as  Ran- 
ken's  Creek,  there  to  meet  her  death  by  drowning. 


Coroner  Kruger  307 

"  The  murder  occurred,  no  doubt,  during  the 
freshet  two  weeks  ago.  Otherwise  the  body  could 
not  have  been  carried  so  far  down  stream,  and  cast 
up  with  such  force  to  the  point  referred  to.  We 
know  the  murder  must  have  been  committed  fully  a 
half-mile  above  this  spot  (probably  on  or  near  the 
North  Bridge),  for  the  aforesaid  Jane  Doe  had  grasped 
at  some  willow  twigs  as  she  fell  into,  or  floated  upon, 
the  water,  and  the  twigs  were  still  in  her  clenched 
hand,  stiff  frozen,  as  was  the  rest  of  the  body. 

"  Now,  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury  and  fellow-citizens  !  " 
rising  portentously  upon  his  toes  to  accentuate  a 
telling  point,  —  "the  Court  himself  has  examined  the 
banks  of  the  aforesaid  Ranken's  Creek,  in  propria  per- 
sona, and  there  is  n't  a  willow  farther  down  stream 
than  about  fifty  yards  below  the  aforesaid  North 
Bridge,  and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  creek  from 
the  place  where  the  body  was  found.  The  current 
undoubtedly  carried  the  deceased  across  to  the  other 
shore  and  landed  her  upon  the  bank. 

"  All  this  may  be  considered  irregular  testimony  by 
sticklers  for  the  jots  and  the  tittles  of  legal  formal- 
ities," scowling  in  the  direction  of  the  urbane  Hen- 
drickson,  "  but  as  I  saw  the  place  myself  and  as  I 
was  the  surgeon  who  examined  the  body,  I  '11  con- 
sider that  I  'm  the  first  witness,  and  that  I  've  been 
testifying  in  that  capacity." 

Again  Mr.  Hendrickson's  politely  puzzled  face  re- 
laxed into  a  smile,  and  Kruger  passed  on  hastily  to 
the  third  stage  of  the  inquiry. 

I"  The  next  witness  I  shall  call  is  Miss  Katharine 
Meagley,  who,  I  am  credibly  informed,  saw  the  de- 
ceased on  the  day  of  her  de —  I  would  say,  her  death. 
Miss  Katharine  Jane  Meagley  will  please  take  the 
stand." 

The  Middle  Miss  Meagley  had  long  filled  the 
widowed  Coroner's  mind  as  his  ideal  of  a  real  refined, 


308  Dr.  Dale 

tasty-looking,  genteel  young  lady.  His  manner 
underwent  a  decided  change  for  the  gentler  as  he 
questioned  her. 

"  Miss  Meagley,"  he  began  as  a  leading  query, 
"  did  you  ever  see  the  deceased  Jane  Doe  prior  to 
her  death?" 

"I  did!" 

Her  voice  was  incisive,  slightly  metallic.  Her  kit- 
tenishness  had  vanished,  leaving  in  its  place  a  certain 
feline  calm,  an  utter  absence  of  agitation. 

"  State  the  circumstances  of  your  seeing  her, 
please !  " 

"I  saw  her  twice,"  answered  Kate,  choosing  her 
words  carefully.  "  Both  times  were  on  March  four- 
teenth. The  first  time  was  about  half-past  eleven 
in  the  morning.  She  was  walking  down  Hill  Street 
with  Miss  Bell  and  Mrs.  Bowersox's  little  boy.  She 
and  Miss  Bell  were  talking  together  and  seemed  on 
excellent  terms.  I  supposed,  from  their  manner, 
that  they  were  old  friends.  As  the  woman  was 
a  stranger  and  rather  peculiar  in  appearance,  I 
looked  more  closely  at  her  than  I  should  have 
done  otherwise." 

"You  have  viewed  the  —  ah  —  remains,  Miss 
Meagley?" 

A  palpable  shudder  prefaced  the  reply. 

"I  have." 

"  And  are  convinced  in  your  own  mind  that  they 
are  those  of  the  person  you  saw  on  the  aforesaid 
fourteenth  day  of  March  ? " 

"lam." 

"  Did  you  see  where  the  deceased  woman  and  Miss 
Bell  went  on  that  occasion  ?  " 

"Yes.  I  was  driving,  and  stopped  the  horse  at 
the  top  of  the  hill  to  let  him  breathe.  Chancing  to 
look  back,  I  saw  them  stop  at  the  corner  of  Williams 
Street.  Miss  Bell  was  pointing  towards  Dr.  Dale's 


Coroner  Kruger  309 

office.  They  talked  together  for  perhaps  a  minute. 
Then  Miss  Bell  and  the  little  boy  walked  on  up 
Meade  Street.  The  strange  woman  went  down  Wil- 
liams Street  and  into  Dr.  Dale's  office." 

"You  don't  know  how  long  she  stayed  there?" 

"  Naturally  not ! "  with  a  perceptible  stiffening  of 
feature  and  form.  "I  could  not  have  been  so  ill- 
bred  as  to  stay  and  spy  upon  them.  It  was  purely 
by  chance  that  I  turned  to  look  after  I  had  passed 
them." 

"There  is  no  doubt  in  your  own  mind  as  to  the 
identity  of  the  person  who  went  into  Dr.  Dale's 
office  with  the  aforesaid  Jane  Doe  ? "  urged  Kruger. 

Again  the  artistic  shudder. 

"  None  whatever.  I  recognised  her  face  and  her 
dress.  It  was  the  same  woman. " 

"  You  have  said  that  you  saw  her  twice  on  March 
fourteenth.  Please  state  to  the  Court  the  time, 
place,  and  manner  of  your  second  meeting." 

"  It  was  not  a  meeting.  I  saw  her  from  the  par- 
lour window  of  my  father's  house  on  Mulberry  Street, 
—  No.  140.  It  was  at  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
The  clock  struck  just  after  they  had  gone  by." 

"She  was  not  alone  then?  Was  Miss  Bell  with 
her  this  time?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  Who  was  ?  " 

Kate  looked  down ;  tapped  her  foot  nervously  on 
the  floor,  and  shrank  within  herself  effectively. 

"Must  I  answer  that  question,  doctor?  " 

The  appeal  came  in  a  low  voice  that  shook  just  a 
little. 

"  Certainly,  Miss  Meagley.  I  am  sorry  to  force 
you  to  speak  out  against  your  will,  but  Justice  de- 
mands the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but 
the  truth,  you  know.  Who,  then,  I  ask,  was  with 
the  aforesaid  Jane  Doe  when  you  saw  her  from  the 


310  Dr.  Dale 

window  of  your  father's  house,  140  Mulberry 
Street,  at  five  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  March 
fourteenth  ? " 

Five  hundred  heads  bent  forward  to  catch  the 
reply.  There  was  a  hush  throughout  the  room,  that 
the  lowest  word  should  not  be  missed;  but  the  an- 
swer, this  time,  was  in  a  clear,  steady  tone  that 
travelled  to  the  utmost  limits  of  the  hall. 

"Dr.  Egbert  Dale  was  with  her." 

A  rustle  —  a  confused  sound,  that  was  not  gasp, 
murmur,  or  whisper,  yet  a  blending  of  the  three  — 
ran  through  the  assemblage. 

The  Coroner  paused,  pointedly,  until  it  subsided 
into  a  felt  stillness  before  demanding,  from  the 
depths  of  his  capacious  stomach,  — 

"Is  Dr.  Egbert  Dale  in  Court?  " 

No  answer. 

"Clerk!"  commanded  Kruger.  " Send  a  messen- 
ger at  once  to  Dr.  Dale's  office,  and  request  him, 
with  the  compliments  of  the  Court,  to  step  around 
to  the  Court  House  immediately.  Tell  him  his  tes- 
timony is  needed.  If  he  is  not  there,  find  out  where 
he  is,  and  produce  him  without  delay. 

"Now,  Miss  Meagley" — his  voice  again  labori- 
ously gentle  — "  please  state  to  the  Court  if  Dr. 
Dale  and  this  woman  appeared  to  be  on  amicable 
terms." 

"  She  was  wiping  her  eyes, "  began  Kate,  "  and  —  " 

"I  object!" 

Coroner,  witness,  and  spectators  turned  toward  the 
quarter  whence  the  interruption  had  come. 

Hendrickson,  the  lawyer,  was  upon  his  feet. 

"Your  Honour!"  he  said,  bowing  suavely  to 
Kruger,  who  nodded  uneasily  in  response,  "I  have 
hitherto  offered  no  objection  to  the  somewhat  irreg- 
ular mode  in  which  this  Inquest  has  been  conducted. 
It  was  no  affair  of  mine.  It  even  amused  me,  "But 


Coroner  Kruger  311 

when  Dr.  Dale's  name  is  brought  into  the  proceed- 
ings, I  must  object.  Dr.  Dale  is  my  client.  I  have 
charge  of  the  moneyed  interests  bequeathed  to  him 
by  the  late  Mr.  Ralph  Folger,  and  am  his  regularly 
constituted  legal  adviser.  In  that  capacity  I  shall 
represent  him  here  and  now.  If,  when  he  appears 
in  Court,  he  declines  to  allow  me  to  do  this,  I  will 
apologise  to  the  Court  and  withdraw  my  claim.  In 
the  mean  time  I  demand  that  his  name  be  omitted 
from  the  investigation  until  his  arrival." 

The  lawyer  sat  down. 

Kruger  glowered,  changed  his  weight  from  one 
leg  to  the  other,  and  seemed  at  a  loss  how  to  pro- 
ceed. Once  or  twice  he  glanced  at  the  calfskin 
law-book  at  his  elbow,  as  for  advice. 

A  titter  started  in  one  corner  of  the  hall. 

"  Good  work,  Hendrickson !  "  said  a  voice  near 
the  door. 

"  Order !  "  snarled  Kruger,  his  yellow  chin-whisker 
bristling  with  outraged  dignity.  "Since  my  legal 
brother  fears  that  his  client's  interests  may  suffer 
from  a  little  plain  truth-telling,  I  suppose  we  must 
bow  to  the  moneyed  interests  he  represents,  and  not 
breathe  the  new-made  millionaire's  sacred  name  un- 
til he  makes  his  appearance  in  person.  Let  us  hope 
that  Dr.  Dale  will  not  block  the  wheels  of  Justice 
very  long.  I  could  wish  —  " 

"  I  am  here !  "  answered  a  quiet  voice  from  the 
entrance.  "  What  is  your  wish  ?  " 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

DOGBERRY   IN  THE   CHAIR 

"  Dogb.  Pray  thee,  fellow,  peace !  I  do  not  like  thy  look,  I  prom- 
ise thee.  .  .  .  Dost  thou  not  suspect  my  place  ?  Dost  thou  not  sus- 
pect my  years  ?  .  .  .  I  am  a  wise  fellow,  and,  what  is  more,  an  officer. 
.  .  .  Bring  him  away !  O,  that  I  had  been  writ  down  an  ASS  I  " 

WHEN    you    address    the    Court,    Dr. 
Dale,  have  the  kindness  to  say  '  Your 
Honour, '  "   commanded  the   Coroner. 
"Mr.   Hendrickson,    your  lawyer,  has 
taken  up  the  cudgels  in  your  behalf. 
Probably  under  your  instructions  as  your  represen- 
tative.    He  has  delayed  the  Inquest  and  wasted  val- 
uable time  by  his  zeal." 

"Mr.  Hendrickson  has  not  acted  under  my  in- 
structions," rejoined  Dale,  working  his  way  through 
the  crowd  until  he  stood  before  the  Coroner's  raised 
desk;  "for,  not  foreseeing  that  my  testimony  would 
be  needed  in  the  Inquest,  I  could  not  very  well 
have  given  him  any  such  authority.  Still,  I  thank 
him  for  acting  in  my  behalf,  and  I  trust  he  will  do 
me  the  honour  to  continue  to  do  so." 

Bowing  slightly  to  the  Bench,  he  crossed  to  where 
Hendrickson  sat,  shook  hands  with  the  lawyer,  and 
took  a  place  at  his  side. 

"The  investigation  will  now  continue,"  announced 
the  Coroner,  in  his  most  pompous  tones.  "Miss 
Meagley !  the  Court  must  apologise  for  the  rudeness 
with  which  your  most  excellent  testimony  was  in- 
terrupted. We  will  proceed.  You  said  that,  when 
you  saw  the  deceased  in  company  with  Dr.  Dale, 
she  was  wiping  her  eyes.  Did  Dr.  Dale  appear 
agitated  also?" 


Dogberry  in  the  Chair     313 

"Not  at  all." 

"  I  object ! " 

The  witness  and  the  lawyer  had  spoken  in  one 
breath. 

"  I  object !  "  went  on  Hendrickson.  "  Your 
Honour,"  with  the  faintest  tinge  of  irony,  "is, 
presumably,  after  the  facts  in  the  case.  You  are 
not  seeking,  or  should  not  be  seeking,  to  learn 
what  the  witness's  impressions  of  a  man's  mental 
attitude  may  be,  as  judged  from  his  appearance." 

"The  Court  needs  no  suggestions  as  to  its  duty 
from  you,  sir !  "  retorted  Kruger. 

After  a  moment's  consideration  he  waived  the 
question,  asking,  instead,  — 

"In  what  direction  were  Dr.  Dale  and  the  woman 
going  when  you  met  them,  Miss  Meagley?  I  take 
it,  that  is  a  matter  of  fact." 

"Toward  the  North  Bridge." 

"  Could  you  see  from  your  window  whether  or  not 
they  actually  turned  in  that  direction  after  reaching 
the  head  of  Mulberry  Street? " 

Kate  had  the  grace  to  blush. 

"They  did,"  she  answered  in  a  low  tone. 

"And  about  what  time  of  day  did  you  say  this 
was  ? " 

"At  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon." 

"Did  Dr.  Dale  see  you?  I  trust  my  legal  friend 
will  permit  that  question  ?  "  grinning  sardonically. 

"  He  did  not  look  at  the  house." 

"  I  object ! "  said  Hendrickson,  wearily. 

"That  is  all,  Miss  Meagley.  Thank  you!"  said 
the  Coroner,  ignoring  the  interruption.  "Miss 
Harriet  Meagley  will  please  come  forward ! " 

Miss  Harriet,  so  sallow,  even  to  her  lips,  with 
agitation  as  to  look  cadaverous  in  her  sage-green 
costume,  was  led  to  the  witness's  chair  by  a  Court 
attendant 


314  Dr.  Dale 

In  answer  to  the  Coroner's  questions  she  corrobo- 
rated her  sister's  testimony  in  every  detail,  but  with 
half-dramatic,  half-scared  speech.  It  was  like  the 
sputtering  flicker  of  a  damp  match  following  a  clean 
lightning-flash. 

"  Is  Miss  Myrtle  Bell  in  Court  ?  "  called  Kruger. 

Dale's  black  brows  contracted  at  the  coarse- 
mouthed  shouting  of  her  name.  He  seemed  about 
to  speak  when  John  Bell's  tall  head  arose  above  the 
throng  about  the  door. 

"Your  Honour,  is  it  absolutely  necessary  that 
Miss  Bell  should  appear  in  this  matter?"  he  asked 
respectfully. 

"The  interests  of  Justice  demand  it  imperatively, 
Mr.  Bell,"  answered  the  Coroner.  "I  regret,  as 
much  as  you  can,  the  necessity  of  bringing  your 
sister's  name  into  this  very  unpleasant  case,  but 
she  is  an  important  witness.  I  must  send  for  her." 

"I  will  go  for  her,"  replied  John,  after  a  glance 
at  Hendrickson,  and  a  nod  from  the  latter. 

"  Not  to  lose  time,  the  Court  now  summons  the 
Reverend  Cotton  Mather  Welsh,"  resumed  Kruger. 

A  fresh  murmur  arose  from  the  spectators,  as  the 
little  minister,  in  his  threadbare  surtout  and  slov- 
enly white  necktie,  stepped  to  the  front. 

"Do  you  swear  —  "  began  Kruger,  holding  out  the 
shabby  Court  Bible. 

Welsh  pushed  the  Book  aside. 

"  '  Let  your  yea  be  yea,  and  your  nay,  nay ! '  "  he 
said  sternly.  "  It  is  also  written,  '  Swear  not  at 
all!'  I  refuse  to  take  an  oath;  I  will  affirm." 

"That  will  do,"  assented  the  Coroner,  after  a 
hasty  dip  into  the  calfskin  manual. 

"Mr.  Welsh,"  he  went  on,  "did  you  ever  see 
the  deceased  woman  whose  death  the  Court  is,  at 
present,  investigating?" 

"  And  whose  funeral  services  I  am  to  conduct  to- 


Dogberry  in  the  Chair     315 

morrow?  Yes,  sir,  —  both  before  and  after  her 
death." 

"State  the  circumstances,  if  you  please." 

"  I  was  returning  from  a  pastoral  visit  to  the  fam- 
ily of  Mr.  Joseph  Eddy  on  the  Blackstone  turnpike, 
about  two  miles  from  town,  on  the  afternoon  of 
March  fourteenth.  To  shorten  the  distance  I  took 
a  footpath  across  the  fields  and  came  home  by  way 
of  the  North  Bridge." 

In  his  desire  to  abide  by  his  affirmation  the  wit- 
ness omitted  no  particular. 

"  I  had  crossed  the  bridge  and  was  about  half  a 
mile  this  side  of  it  —  or  it  may  have  been  three- 
quarters  —  when  I  met  the  deceased  woman  in 
company  with  Dr.  Egbert  Dale.  They  were  talk- 
ing earnestly ;  the  woman  seeming  in  great  distress 
of  mind,  or  perhaps  of  body.  When  they  perceived 
me,  both  became  silent,  nor  did  they  (so  far  as  I 
could  determine)  speak  again  until  I  was  out  of 
earshot.  They  were  walking  towards  the  bridge. 
I  watched  them  until  a  turn  in  the  road  hid  them 
from  my  sight." 

"Did  they  seem  in  a  hurry  to  arrive  at  their 
destination  ?  " 

"  No.  They  walked  slowly.  The  woman  looked 
tired." 

" Did  you  see  the  woman  again  that  day? " 

"I  did  not." 

"Or  Dr.  Dale?" 

"No." 

"About  what  time  was  it  when  you  met  them 
near  the  North  Bridge?" 

"At  five  forty-five  p.  M." 

"  Can  you  speak  positively  as  to  the  hour? " 

"I  heard  the  chimes  in  the  cupola  of  the  resort 
known  as  The  Bachelors'  Club  ring  the  quarters  as 
I  passed  the  man  and  the  woman." 


316  Dr.  Dale 

"Those  chimes  are  usually  correct,  I  believe?  " 
"They  are  the  only  correct  thing  in  that  —  " 
"  I    object ! "      Hendrickson   was    on    the    alert. 
"Your  Honour,  the  witness's  ideas  as  to  The  Bach- 
elors' Club  have  no  place  in  this  Inquest." 

"Mr.  Hendrickson,  the  Court  will  be  obliged  if 
you  will  attend  solely  to  the  interests  of  your  client 

—  which  are  likely  to  need  all  your  time  and  care 

—  and   not    interfere    in   other    matters,"    snapped 
Kruger. 

The  lawyer  smiled  leisurely. 

This  smile  was  of  a  childlike  and  gentle  strain, 
and  drove  the  Coroner  furious  each  time  it  lighted 
up  Hendrickson's  clean-shaven  face. 

"  Dr.  Egbert  Dale ! "  he  vociferated  savagely. 
"You  will  take  the  stand!" 

Again  a  hush  fell  upon  the  Court-room,  as  Dale, 
calm  and  gravely  unconcerned,  walked  to  the  wit- 
ness's stand,  bowed  to  his  rival  and  sat  down. 

Hendrickson  followed  him  closely,  and  stood  lean- 
ing lazily  against  the  side  of  the  Coroner's  desk. 

The  combination  aggravated  Kruger's  nervous- 
ness. Hendrickson  smiled  as  he  observed  his  per- 
turbation, and  the  smile  changed  the  Coroner's 
uneasiness  to  anger. 

"I  suppose  I  ought  to  apologise,"  he  began, 
sneering  openly  into  the  witness's  stern,  faultless 
face,  "for  troubling  a  millionaire  —  a  plutocrat  — 
with  so  menial  a  task  as  answering  my  questions. 
But  the  law,  Dr.  Dale,  is  no  respecter  of  persons; 
at  least  not  in  Pitvale,  where  men  are  honest  and 
upright,  even  if  they  do  earn  their  livelihood  by  the 
sweat  of  their  brows." 

If  he  had  hoped  to  make  a  favourable  impression 
upon  the  populace  by  this  gallery-play,  he  was 
disappointed. 

A  low  growl  of  dissent  arose  from  the  centre  of 


Dogberry  in  the  Chair     317 

the  room  where  sat  a  bunch  of  oilmen.     Something 
very  like  a  hiss  was  heard  near  the  south  windows. 

"Order!"  cried  Kruger.  "Dr.  Dale!  do  these 
people  insult  the  Court  at  your  instigation  ?  Do 
you  recognise  the  great  solemnity  of  the  occasion? 
Are  you  informed  who  and  what  I  am  ? " 

As  Hendrickson  turned  half-way  on  his  heel  to 
stare  wonderingly  into  his  face,  the  functionary  lost 
his  head  and  coherence  of  words. 

"Answer  me  that!"  he  spluttered,  bending  over 
the  desk  and  pointing  a  stubby  forefinger  into  Dale's 
face.  "  Are  you  informed  who  and  what  I  am  ?  " 

"  I  have  had  much  useless  information  thrust  upon 
me  from  time  to  time,"  answered  Dale,  drily,  as 
Kruger  paused  for  a  reply. 

A  mighty  guffaw,  that  ceased  as  abruptly  as  it  had 
started,  broke  from  the  audience. 

"  ORDER  ! "  screamed  the  Coroner,  scarlet  with 
fury.  "Dr.  Dale!  are  you  aware  that  I  can  commit 
you  for  contempt  of  Court,  and  —  and  —  and  —  for 
delaying  and  tampering  with  the  ends  of  justice  — 
in  exciting  this  riot?  " 

"Your  Honour!"  broke  in  Hendrickson,  peremp- 
torily, and  serious  enough  by  now.  "This  is  all 
beside  the  point.  My  client,  not  knowing  that  he 
would  be  called  here  to-day,  could  scarcely  have 
instigated  a  '  riot,'  as  you  term  it,  for  the  purpose 
of  breaking  in  upon  his  testimony.  Moreover,  he 
is  ready  to  answer  any  relevant  question  you  may 
put  to  him.  As  he  is  a  very  busy  man  and  has  no 
time  to  waste,  may  I  ask  your  Honour  to  begin  his 
examination  at  once?" 

For  a  whole  minute  lawyer  and  Coroner  eyed  each 
other  in  silence  while  the  crowd  whispered  together. 
Then  Kruger  confronted  Dale,  and  administered  the 
oath. 

"  Dr.  Dale, "  with  forced  composure,  "  three  reput- 


3i8  Dr.  Dale 

able  witnesses  have  deposed  to  seeing  you  with 
the  deceased  Jane  Doe  on  the  afternoon  of  March 
fourteenth.  You  are  believed  to  have  been  the  last 
person  seen  with  her  alive.  What  answer  have  you 
to  make  to  this  charge?  " 

"  If  your  Honour  will  question  me  more  directly, 
I  can  answer  more  intelligently,"  replied  Dale.  "It 
is  difficult  to  refute  a  charge  that  has  not  been  made, 
and  the  nature  of  which  I  do  not  know." 

"  Did  you,  or  did  you  not,  see  the  deceased  woman 
known  here  as  Jane  Doe  on  the  afternoon  of  March 
fourteenth  ? " 

"I  did." 

"Who  was  she?  " 

" She  did  not  tell  me.     I  did  not  ask." 

"  She  was  not  a  friend  of  yours,  then  ?  " 

"She  was  not." 

"  Yet  you  were  talking  to  her. " 

"  I  am  talking  to  your  Honour  now. " 

Another  mighty  bob-tailed  laugh  jarred  the 
windows. 

Dale  glanced  appealingly  at  the  spectators.  In 
an  instant  the  room  was  silent. 

"  You  will  gain  nothing,  sir,  by  impertinent  re- 
plies," growled  Kruger,  whose  mental  epidermis 
Dale's  last  retort  was  just  beginning  to  penetrate. 

"  If  your  Honour  will  confine  yourself  to  pertinent 
questions,  my  client  will  do  his  best  to  answer  in 
kind,"  suggested  Hendrickson,  smilingly. 

"Will  your  client  be  good  enough,"  Kruger 
went  on,  swallowing  his  wrath  visibly,  "to  tell  us 
the  particulars  of  the  interview  —  or  interviews  — 
with  the  deceased  woman  on  the  afternoon  of  March 
fourteenth?  Or,  to  put  it  more  pertinently,  will 
he  tell  us  what  he  knows  of  her  doings  on  that  par- 
ticular day?  In  short,  why  she  came  to  his  office, 
how  long  she  stayed  there  —  and  how  long  they  were 


Dogberry  in  the  Chair     319 

together  in  all  ?  The  Court  wants  —  and  will  have 
—  categorical  answers  to  these  questions.  And  no 
gratuitous  comments  from  witness  or  counsel." 

His  self-esteem  mounted  gratifyingly.  He  had 
never  done  a  handsomer  thing. 

"  The  woman  in  question "  said  Dale,  amid  a 
general  hush  above  which  his  rich  voice  arose 
clear  and  calm  —  "came  to  my  office  about  half- 
past  eleven  o'clock  in  the  forenoon  of  March  four- 
teenth. She  told  me  she  had  just  come  to  town. 
She  was  in  search  of  her  husband,  who  had  practi- 
cally deserted  her.  She  had  heard,  she  said,  that 
he  was  earning  good  wages  in  Pitvale,  and  she  had 
come  here  to  live  with  him.  My  name  had  been 
mentioned  in  one  of  his  letters  as  a  prominent 
physician  in  the  place,  and  she  thought  I  might  be 
able  to  tell  her  something  about  him. 

"  She  had  travelled  all  night,  and  was  fatigued 
and  faint  from  fasting.  I  made  her  lie  down  upon 
the  lounge  in  my  private  office,  and  telephoned  to 
The  Bachelors'  Club  for  a  substantial  luncheon  for 
her.  This  fact  can  be  substantiated  by  the  waiter 
who  brought  the  luncheon." 

"Confine  yourself  to  the  line  of  evidence  indi- 
cated by  the  Court,  if  you  please!"  interjected  the 
Coroner,  magisterially  intolerant  of  side-issues. 

"  After  she  had  eaten,  she  fell  asleep  upon 
the  lounge,"  Dale  continued,  unmoved  by  the  re- 
buke. "  It  was  perhaps  half-past  four  when  she 
awoke. " 

"And  you  wish  us  to  believe  that,  in  all  this 
time,  she  had  not  told  you  the  name  of  her  hus- 
band?" sneered  the  Coroner,  incredulously. 

"  I  did  not  say  that.  If  your  Honour  had  put  the 
question,  I  should  have  answered  that  his  name  was 
the  same  as  my  own  —  Dale,"  smiling  slightly  as  he 
said  it. 


320  Dr.  Dale 

A  big  Irishman  shot  up  in  the  heart  of  the  crowd 
like  a  derrick. 

"Begorra!"  he  cried,  in  a  voice  thickened  by 
whiskey  and  excitement.  "That  would  be  Tom 
Dale  that  worrked  wid  meself  for  two  mont'  in  the 
Landruss  wells !  A  dhrunken  blagguard  he  wor, 
an'  skipped  the  town  a  week  ago,  owing  iverybody 
as  would  thrust  him  for  the  price  av  a  dhrink ! " 

"Order!  Sit  down,  sir!"  shouted  Kruger,  bring- 
ing his  fist  down  upon  the  desk.  "  Now  —  Dr. 
Dale!"  with  elaborate  civility,  "will  you  go  on 
with  your  story  ?  Had  you  ever  heard  of  this  Tom 
Dale  — let  me  ask,  first  of  all?" 

"  Never,  until  this  instant.  I  had  heard  that  sev- 
eral oilmen  who  had  come  to  Pitvale  lately  boarded 
at  the  Eddy  farmhouse  on  the  Blackstone  turnpike. 
I  knew  that  she  could  be  comfortably  lodged  there, 
even  if  she  did  not  find  the  man  she  was  looking  for 
among  these  new  men.  I  offered  to  show  her  the 
way  and  to  give  her  a  note  to  Mrs.  Eddy.  We 
walked  together  as  far  as  this  end  of  the  North 
Bridge.  The  chimneys  of  the  Eddy  house  can  be 
seen  from  there  across  the  fields.  I  pointed  it  out 
to  her,  and  left  her.  I  went  directly  home." 

"  After  leaving  her,  you  did  not  see  her  again  that 
day?" 

"No." 

Kruger  pondered  blankly,  pursing  up  his  mouth 
and  tugging  at  his  chin-whiskers. 

"The  Reverend  Mr.  Welsh  has  testified,"  he  said 
at  last,  "that  the  woman's  eyes  were  red.  Had  she 
been  crying  ? " 

"She  had." 

"  For  what  reason  ?  " 

"  She  was  tired,  disheartened,  and  nervously  ex- 
cited. Then,  too,  she  was  afraid  her  husband  would 
be  angry  with  her  for  coming." 


Dogberry  in  the  Chair     321 

"  Ah !  she  apprehended  violence  on  his  part  ?  Did 
she  say  he  had  ever  beaten  or  been  unkind  to  her? " 

Dale  smiled  again,  very  faintly.  The  questioner 
bored,  yet  amused  him. 

"  On  the  contrary,  she  said  he  had  always  treated 
her  kindly,  while  they  lived  together." 

"  You  went  directly  home  after  leaving  her.  To 
your  office  ? " 

"No,  to  Mr.  Bowersox's,  where  I  am  boarding." 

"About  what  time  did  you  get  there?  " 

"At  six  fifty-five.     The  supper-hour  is  seven." 

"  You  are  sure  as  to  the  time  ?  " 

"I  am.  I  looked  at  the  kitchen  clock  as  I 
entered." 

"  You  arrived  there  at  six  fifty-five,  you  say.  Mr. 
Welsh  has  testified  that  he  met  you  at  five-forty- 
five.  Allowing  that  you  walked  to  the  bridge  in 
twenty  minutes  —  for  he  says  you  walked  slowly  — 
and  allowing  ten  minutes  for  your  instructions  to 
Jane  Doe  at  this  end  of  the  bridge,  —  that  would 
have  given  you  forty-five  minutes  to  cover  the 
two  miles  back  to  Mr.  Bowersox's  house.  A  long 
time,  Dr.  Dale,  for  a  brisk  walker  like  yourself. 
Are  you  sure  you  did  not  walk  with  her  down  the 
other  side  of  the  creek  as  far,  let  us  say  —  as  the 
willows  grow? " 

Hendrickson  struck  into  the  examination,  thor- 
oughly aroused  by  the  Coroner's  palpable  intention 
to  trip  up  the  witness  and  the  broader  intent  of  the 
concluding  clause. 

"  Your  Honour  has  said  that  the  woman  was  evi- 
dently killed  on  the  other  side  of  the  creek,  and 
pointed  out  the  probability  that  the  current,  which 
we  all  know  swirls  violently  across  stream  just  op- 
posite the  spot  where  she  was  found,  carried  her 
body  to  the  mouth  of  the  Glen.  Suppose  Dr.  Dale 
walked  over  the  bridge  with  her,  they  sauntering 

21 


322  Dr.  Dale 

along,  as  Mr.  Welsh  has  testified.  It  is  a  measured 
three  miles  —  not  two,  as  your  Honour  has  said  inad- 
vertently —  from  the  willows  you  have  spoken  of 
below  the  North  Bridge  to  the  farmhouse  of  Mr. 
Joachim  Bowersox  on  the  south  side  of  the  town. 
Even  so  brisk  a  walker  as  Dr.  Dale  is  reputed  to 
be,  would  have  been  put  to  it  to  cover  that  distance 
in  forty-five  minutes.  Without  depreciating  Dr. 
Dale  as  an  athlete,  I  doubt  if  he  could  keep  that 
up  for  three  consecutive  miles,  up  hill  and  down, 
without  winding  himself." 

The  picture  of  the  dignified  physician  traversing 
the  landscape  at  the  rate  of  nine  miles  an  hour 
brought  a  giggle  from  the  feminine  portion  of  the 
audience. 

The  men  present  did  not  smile.  Kruger's  evi- 
dent desire  to  implicate  the  man  they  loved  and 
trusted  in  the  dark  deed  they  were  considering,  left 
them  too  indignant  for  amusement,  even  if  the  Coro- 
ner had  failed  to  make  his  point. 

"You  say  you  reached  home  at  six  fifty-five,  by 
Mrs.  Bowersox's  kitchen  clock,"  persisted  Kruger, 
nettled  to  obstinacy  by  the  laughter.  "Can  you 
prove  it  ? " 

"I  can.  Mrs.  Bowersox  called  me  into  the 
kitchen  the  moment  I  reached  the  house.  Her 
little  son  had  cut  his  wrist  with  a  piece  of  glass. 
She  ran  into  the  hall  when  I  shut  the  front  door 
and  asked  me  to  attend  to  him  at  once.  He  was  in 
the  kitchen.  She  said  supper  would  be  ready  in 
five  minutes,  but  hoped  I  would  not  mind  waiting  a 
little  while.  We  both  looked  at  the  clock  as  she 
said  it.  It  was  six  fifty-five." 

"  Clerk !  "  ordered  the  Coroner.  "  Send  a  mes- 
senger to  Mrs.  Bowersox  and  ask  her  to  step  here. 
Tell  her  it's  an  important  matter.  She  must  drop 
everything  and  come.  That  will  do  for  the  present, 


Dogberry  in  the  Chair     323 

Dr.  Dale.  Stay  in  Court.  I  may  have  to  recall 
you." 

Dale  left  the  stand  and  went  back  to  where  he 
and  Hendrickson  had  been  sitting  before  he  was 
called  upon  to  testify. 

John  Bell  led  his  sister  to  the  place  they  had  just 
vacated. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

MRS.  BOWERSOX  TAKES  THE  STAND 

"  Examinations  are  formidable,  even  to  the  best  prepared ;  for  the 
greatest  fool  may  ask  more  than  the  wisest  man  can  answer." 

"•m      mr iss  MYRTLE  BELL!"  called  out 

^L    /  II   Kruger,  perfunctorily,   as   Dale's   eyes 
^k/     I   met  those  of  the  girl.    "  Please  take  the 
W      I  stand!" 

"^^  Myrtle  moved  forward  to  the  spot 
designated.  Her  brother  put  her  into  the  chair  and 
stood  by  her,  his  hand  upon  the  back. 

"  Do  you  swear,"  continued  Kruger,  his  eyes  roam- 
ing admiringly  over  the  spirited  face  and  simple  yet 
elegant  cloth  gown,  "  to  tell  the  truth,  the  whole  truth, 
and  nothing  but  the  truth,  to  the  best  of  your  knowl- 
edge and  belief — so  help  you,  GOD?  " 

At  his  gesture,  the  clerk  of  the  Court  thrust  the 
greasy  Court  Bible  into  the  girl's  face. 

For  one  rapt  instant  she  forgot  where  she  was. 
The  words  carried  her  back  to  the  time  when  she 
had,  in  feigned  playfulness,  quoted  part  of  the  oath 
to  Dale.  Again  she  heard  the  love-shaken  voice 
murmur,  "  So  help  me,  GOD  !  "  The  breath  of  the 
warmed  violets  mingled  with  the  roses  in  her  fancy ; 
she  trembled  under  the  ardent  gaze  of  the  deep,  glo- 
rious eyes.  A  dreamy  smile  stole  into  her  own  eyes, 
while  her  lips  were  grave;  she  became,  all  at  once, 
fearless  and  collected. 

One  of  the  hundreds  who  were  gazing  at  her,  saw 
and  understood  the  love-light  that  came  and  was  gone 
in  a  second,  and  worshipped  her  afar  off. 

The  touch  of  the  ill-smelling  Bible,  worn  and  em- 


Mrs.  Bowersox  takes  the  Stand  325 

bellished  by  contact  with  countless  oil-grimed  hands, 
recalled  her  rudely  to  the  actual  and  the  present. 
She  bent  her  head  and  brushed  the  book  lightly  with 
her  firm  lips. 

"  Miss  Bell,"  said  the  Coroner,  raspingly,  "  Miss 
Katharine  Meagley  has  testified  to  seeing  the  de- 
ceased Jane  Doe  in  your  company  on  the  forenoon 
of  March  the  fourteenth.  Were  you  acquainted  with 
the  deceased  woman?" 

"  I  was  not." 

"  How  did  you  happen  to  be  walking  with  her?" 

"  She  asked  the  way  to  a  certain  house,  and  I 
walked  a  short  distance  to  show  her  where  it  was.  I 
never  saw  her  before,  nor  do  I  know  who  she  was." 

"  What  was  the  '  certain  house '  to  which  you  di- 
rected her?" 

"  Dr.  Dale's  office,"  replied  the  girl,  the  clear 
girlish  voice  forcing  the  words  reluctantly.  While 
the  ingenuous  eyes  did  not  droop,  her  face  flushed 
warmly,  i 

"  Why  should  she  have  applied  to  you  for  that 
information?  Why  should  she  suppose  you  were 
better  able  to  direct  her  to  Dr.  Dale's  office  than 
any  other  of  the  many  people  she  must  have  met  in 
the  streets  of  a  strange  city?" 

"  I  object ! "  called  Hendrickson.  "  That  question 
is  irrelevant,  immaterial,  and  incompetent." 

His  quick  eye  had  noted  the  witness's  blush,  and 
the  spasm  of  anger  that  wrung  Dale's  features.  He 
threw  himself  forward  to  guard  both  of  them,  with 
professional  jealousy  and  friendly  promptness. 

Again  Kruger,  frightened  by  the  long  words,  as  a 
wolf  is  fire-scared  from  a  camp,  waived  the  question. 

"  Please  tell  us  all  you  know  of  this  woman." 

Briefly  and  clearly  Myrtle  told  how  and  where  she 
had  met  the  stranger,  and  then  the  story  of  finding 
the  body  in  the  snow.  She  was  serious,  self-possessed, 


326  Dr.  Dale 

and  modestly  dignified.  Her  brother's  eyes  rested 
pridefully  upon  her.  In  his  far  corner  the  lover  lost 
not  a  word  or  look,  and  thought  —  what  God  and  he 
knew. 

Kruger  made  no  attempt  to  shake  her  testimony. 

"  That  will  do,  Miss  Bell,"  he  said  patronisingly, 
as  she  finished.  "  Or,  stay !  When  you  mentioned 
afterwards  to  Dr.  Dale  that  you  had  sent  a  lady  to  his 
office  and  —  and  maybe  joked  him  a  little  about  his 
mysterious  visitor,  what  did  he  say?  Did  he  appear 
confused?  or  give  you  an  evasive  answer?  or  what?" 

Myrtle's  honest  eyes  looked  inquiringly  into  his. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon?  "  she  said  tentatively. 

"  Why,"  explained  Kruger,  with  elephantine  play- 
fulness, "  you  and  Dr.  Dale  board  in  the  same  house, 
and  are  no  doubt  quite  chummy  and  all  that,  you 
know.  When  he  came  home  to  supper  that  night,  I 
suppose  you  teased  him  a  little  on  the  subject,  did  n't 
you?  Just  light  table-talk,  you  know,  such  as  any 
lady  might  engage  in.  Sort  of  breezy  badinage  — 
eh?" 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  hardly  understand  you,"  said  the  girl, 
slowly.  "  I  should  not  think  of  questioning  a  phy- 
sician about  his  patients." 

"  Oh,  perhaps  not !  But  he  may  have  volunteered 
some  remark  about  this  one.  That  would  be  very 
natural  for  any  man,  talking  over  his  day's  work  at 
the  table.  Did  n't  he?" 

"  Dr.  Dale  has  never  spoken  of  his  professional 
work  in  my  hearing.  I  have  always  understood  that 
it  is  considered  dishonourable  for  physicians  to  discuss 
their  patients  with  outsiders." 

Her  eyes  had  not  left  his.  She  spoke  as  one  who 
states  a  general  principle,  without  temper  and  with 
cool  civility. 

"She  can  take  care  of  herself!  "  said  Hendrickson 
in  Dale's  ear.  "  Blood  and  breeding  will  tell !  " 


Mrs.  Bower sox  takes  the  Stand  327 

Kruger  looked  stupidly  at  the  witness,  dimly  sus- 
pecting he  had  received  a  rebuke,  yet  hazy  as  to  the 
exact  nature  of  it.  He  had  tried  to  adapt  himself  to 
the  vein  of  persiflage  he  supposed  "  society  people  " 
used.  He  felt  that  he  had  somehow  failed. 

"  Oh  !  "  he  said  again ;  then,  "  That  is  all  at  pres- 
ent, Miss  Bell.  Thank  you !  " 

As  Myrtle  left  the  stand,  the  coroner  addressed 
the  clerk  querulously, — 

"  Has  n't  Mrs.  Bowersox  put  in  an  appearance 
yet?  " 

"  Here  I  am !  "  came  in  decided  tones  from  the 
audience,  and,  people  parting  good-naturedly  to  let 
her  thread  the  close  ranks,  Mrs.  Bowersox  made  her 
way  to  the  platform  on  which  were  the  Coroner's  desk 
and  chair. 

She  had  evidently  obeyed  the  injunction  to  "  drop 
everything  and  come."  Her  purple  calico  was  the 
same  she  had  worn  at  the  breakfast-table,  and, 
although  clean  and  smooth,  was  indubitably  a  work- 
ing-day gown.  Her  bonnet  was  askew,  her  cloak 
was  buttoned  crookedly.  She  had  the  air  of  a  fat 
elderly  woman  overblown  by  exercise.  She  fanned 
her  florid  face  with  her  folded  handkerchief  as  she 
spoke,  face  to  face,  with  the  frowning  official. 

"  What  upon  earth  could  you  want  of  me,  Sam 
Kruger?  It  beats  me  to  know  what  put  it  into  your 
head  to  think  that  I'd  know  anything  about  the  poor 
dear  that  I  never  clapped  eyes  on,  living  or  dead." 

She  was  as  nearly  out  of  humour  as  her  nature  and 
her  religion  ever  suffered  her  to  be. 

"  Take  the  stand,  Mrs.  Bowersox !  "  commanded 
Kruger,  loftily. 

And,  as  the  worthy  soul  established  herself  in  the 
chair  designated  by  a  grinning  attendant,  amid  a 
general  ripple  of  merriment,  and  gazed  up  per- 
plexedly at  him — "In  addressing  me,  please  say 


328  Dr.  Dale 

'  Your  Honour.'  It  is  the  custom  in  speaking  to  the 
presiding  officer  of  the  Court." 

"Your  Honour  !"  echoed  Mrs.  Bowersox,  in  genuine 
amazement,  suspending  her  fanning.  "  For  goodness' 
sake,  Sam  Kruger  !  I  've  known  you,  man  and  boy, 
these  twenty-odd  years.  And  your  father,  —  poor 
dear  man  !  before  you.  It  's  late  in  the  day  for  you 
to  be  putting  on  frills  with  me,  Sam  !  " 

The  laughing  Hendrickson  left  his  seat  as  Kruger 
tried  in  vain  to  silence  a  howl  of  delight  from  the 
spectators.  The  lawyer  said  a  few  words  to  the 
witness  in  a  low  tone,  then  turned  to  the  Coroner. 

"  Your  Honour  !  The  witness  did  not  understand 
the  nature  of  your  present  office.  I  have  explained 
it  to  her.  I  am  certain  that,  if  you  will  overlook  her 
lack  of  legal  experience,  she  will  give  you  no  further 
trouble." 

"  None  at  all  !  not  a  mite  !  "  Mrs.  Bowersox 
hastened  to  say  agreeably.  "  I  'm  only  too  glad  to 
be  of  any  help  to  the  law  —  gracious  knows,  Sam! 
I  mean,  Your  Honour  !  I  '11  answer  any  questions  you 
choose  to  put.  Now  I  'm  here,  I  'm  in  no  hurry.  If 
it  is  baking-day  and  —  " 

"  Give  me  your  attention,  please  !  "  said  Kruger, 
lunging  portentously  upon  each  syllable.  "  Did  you 
ever  see  or  hear  of  the  deceased  Jane  Doe  before 
the  finding  of  her  body  on  the  afternoon  of  March 
the  twenty-sixth  in  the  present  year?  " 


"  The  deceased  Jane  Doe  —  whose  body  was 
found  day  before  yesterday." 

"  Oh-h  !  the  poor  dear  who  was  froze  to  death  ! 
I  did  n't  know,  just  at  first,  who  you  meant.  And 
you've  found  out  her  name  at  last?  Jane  Doe! 
Well  !  well  !  well  !  I  used  to  know  a  family  of  Does 
over  Pittsburgh  way,  before  I  was  married.  I  wonder 
if  she  was  any  relation  to  them?  " 


Mrs.  Bowersox  takes  the  Stand  329 

"  Order !  "  yelled  Kruger,  as  the  audience  shrieked 
anew. 

"  Mrs.  Bowersox !  The  deceased  is  designated  by 
the  Court  as  Jane  Doe,  merely  because  her  name  is 
not  yet  known.  It  is  a  legal  term." 

"  Oh-h  !  you  just  call  her  that?  I  see !  Seems  to 
me  you  might  have  thought  up  a  nicer  name  while 
you  were  about  it.  For  instance  —  " 

"  You  are  wasting  the  time  of  the  Court,  Mrs. 
Bowersox !  "  reproved  Kruger.  "  Please  attend 
closely  to  my  questions  and  answer  as  briefly  as 
possible.  Dr.  Dale  is  a  lodger  in  your  house,  I 
believe?  " 

"  You  know  he  is  !     Why,  only  last  week,  you  —  " 

"  Do  you  remember,"  hurried  on  the  Coroner, 
"  at  what  hour  he  reached  home  on  the  evening  of 
March  fourteenth  —  the  evening  of  the  thunder- 
storm ? " 

"  We  always  have  supper  at  seven.  And  Dr.  Dale 
is  pretty  prompt.  That  is,  unless  he  's  kept  out  by 
some  patient  or  other,  poor  dear  gentleman  !  He  's 
got  an  awfully  big  practice,  you  know.  And  even 
then  he  sends  word  when  he  can  —  by  telephone, 
you  know  —  " 

"  I  ask  when  he  came  home  on  the  evening  of 
March  the  fourteenth ! "  interposed  Kruger,  impa- 
tiently. "  Did  he  or  did  he  not  come  in  to  supper 
on  that  particular  night  ?  " 

"Why,  how  should  I  know?  It  was  all  of  a  fort- 
night ago.  You  can't  expect  me  —  " 

"  Let  me  refresh  your  memory  —  with  his  Honour's 
permission,  of  course !  "  interrupted  Hendrickson, 
who  had  remained  near  the  desk.  "  Mrs.  Bowersox ! 
do  you  recollect  the  night  your  little  boy  cut  his 
wrist  so  badly  with  a  piece  of  glass?" 

"  I  should  say  I  did  !  Why,  the  poor  dear  would 
have  bled  to  death  if  Dr.  Dale  had  n't  happened  to 


330  Dr.  Dale 

come  in,  in  the  very  nick  of  time,  and  plastered  him 
up.  There  never  was  another  such  child  for  acci- 
dents. I  always  say  that  I  can't  realise  Jeff  at  any 
time.  But  it  passes  me  where  he  got  his  talent  for 
getting  into  scrapes." 

"  At  what  time  did  Dr.  Dale  get  home  that  even- 
ing? "  The  lawyer  led  her  gently  back  to  the 
point.  "  You  are  sure  it  was  the  fourteenth  of 
March  ?  " 

"I  ain't  likely  to  forget  it!  Why,  that  was  the 
night  poor  dear  Ralph  Folger  died,  and  the  steel 
tank  was  struck,  and  mercy  knows  what  other  awful 
things  happened.  I  remember,  because  I  had  a  lot 
of  bother  getting  poor  dear  Jeff  to  sleep  after  his 
wrist  was  bandaged,  and  I  just  couldn't  sing  '  The 
Hollow  of  His  Hand  '  to  suit  him,  and  Miss  Bell 
not  being  at  home,  she  could  n't  sing  it  for  him,  and 
he  was  just  getting  sort  of  quiet  when  the  cannon 
went  off—" 

"  Exactly !  "  assented  Hendrickson,  insinuatingly. 
"  And  that  was  the  night  of  March  fourteenth." 

"  Of  course  it  was !  Just  as  I  was  saying,  Pitvale 
ain't  likely  to  forget  that  date.  If  only  because  poor, 
dear  Ralph  Folger  —  as  nice  and  friendly  a  boy  —  " 

"  Quite  so  !  And  you  say  Dr.  Dale  came  in  punc- 
tually to  supper  that  night?  " 

"  I  know  he  did.     At  least  — " 

"  At  least  what?  "  cut  in  the  Coroner,  sharply. 

"  At  least,  I  'm  pretty  sure.  I  remember  the  kitchen 
clock  began  to  strike  seven  just  as  Dr.  Dale  was 
dressing  Jeff's  poor  dear  wrist." 

"  Had  you  spoken  of  the  time  before  that?  "  pur- 
sued Hendrickson,  in  his  suavest  tone. 

"  Now  you  mention  it,  of  course  I  had !  I  had 
Jeff  at  the  sink,  running  cold  water  on  the  cut,  and 
he  trying  to  be  brave,  as  I  will  say  for  him  he  always 
tries  to  be,  poor  dear !  and  Anneke  —  that 's  my  cook 


Mrs.  Bower sox  takes  the  Stand  331 

—  says,  '  There  's  Dr.  Dale  now ! '  and  out  I  ran,  and 
there  he  was  hanging  his  hat  on  the  rack  in  the  hall. 
And  he  came  straight  into  the  kitchen  —  and  as  he 
took  hold  of  poor  dear  Jeffs  hand  I  recollected  that 
he  'd  likely  be  in  a  hurry  to  get  away  after  supper, 
and  says  I,  looking  at  the  clock,  '  I  'm  afraid  this  will 
keep  your  supper  waiting,  doctor?  It'll  be  ready  at 
seven  o'clock,  and  it 's  five  minutes  of  now.'  And  says 
he,  '  I  '11  have  this  all  done  before  long.'  He  never 
wastes  words  —  Dr.  Dale  does  n't.  He  and  I  are 
alike  in  that.  And  as  true 's  you  live,  as  the  clock 
struck  seven,  he  put  the  first  stitch  in  the  bandage  on 
the  poor  dear  wrist." 

A  stir  of  deep  satisfaction  went  through  the  room, 
like  the  rustle  of  leaves  in  a  sudden  breeze.  People 
felt,  and  looked  the  feeling,  that  the  persecution  of  a 
successful  man  by  an  unsuccessful  rival  was  at  an 
end.  An  alibi  was  established  beyond  the  shadow 
of  even  an  envious  man's  doubt. 

Kruger  was  brutal  in  his  instincts,  and  he  had  the 
bull-dog's  tenacity  of  purpose  and  hold.  He  set  his 
heavy  jaw  squarely ;  obstinacy  gleamed  redly  in  his 
narrowed  eyes. 

"  Was  that  clock  right  ?  "  he  demanded  harshly. 

"  It's  always  right.  Been  so  for  seventy-odd  years. 
It  belonged  to  Father  —  poor  dear  soul !  and  he 
always  said  —  " 

"  You  declare,  upon  your  oath  —  you  Ve  taken  an 
oath,  recollect,  Mrs.  Bowersox !  that  your  clock  is 
always  right?  " 

"  It 's  always  right,  I  tell  you,  Sam  —  your  Honour ! 
That  is  —  "  her  passion  for  truth-telling  getting  the 
better  of  pride  in  the  heirloom,  "  except,  of  course, 
the  time  my  Jeff  set  it  forward  a  whole  hour,  and  got 
us  all  up  at  peep  o'  day,  and  made  — " 

"  How  do  you  know  your  son  didn't  set  it  back  on 
March  fourteenth?" 


332  Dr.  Dale 

"  I  don't  really  know,  of  course.  Only  he  never 
has  been  known  to  do  the  same  naughty  thing  twice. 
Especially  after  what  I  said  to  —  " 

"  You  cannot  swear  he  did  n't  ?  " 

"  No  !  but  I  'm  pretty  sure  he  would  n't.  And  I 
had  said  to  him  —  " 

"  You  admit  that  he  may  have  done  it  again  ?  " 

"  He  may  have ! "  repeated  the  dazed  mother, 
slowly,  beginning,  despite  her  better  self,  to  believe 
in  Jeff's  turpitude  after  all  this  nagging  iteration. 
"  I  '11  ask  him  the  very  minute  I  get  home.  And  if 
he  did  —  " 

"  So  you  think  it  likely  he  had  tampered  with  the 
clock?" 

"  I  should  n't  really  wonder,  now  you  put  it  that 
way,  if  he  had  —  the  bad  boy !  " 

The  witness  was  getting  bewildered.  A  motherly, 
home-staying  hen,  straying  between  the  two  opposing 
lines  in  the  heat  of  battle,  would  not  have  felt  more 
out  of  place. 

One  idea  stuck  fast  in  her  mind  in  the  maze:  she 
must  tell  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but 
the  truth.  ~-» 

Kruger  followed  up  his  advantage  cleverly. 

"  I  can  understand,  being  a  father  myself,  that  you 
are  grieved  by  the  thought  of  your  boy's  disobedi- 
ence. And  he  had,  perhaps,  promised  not  to  touch 
the  clock  again." 

"  He  had,"  chokingly;  "  and  mischievous  as  he  is, 
I  never  knew  Jeff  to  tell  a  lie." 

"  I  don't  believe  he  did.  Let  us  think  the  matter 
over  coolly.  Did  n't  it  seem  later  than  seven  o'clock 
when  Dr.  Dale  got  home?" 

"  It  certainly  seemed  very  late !  "  agreed  the  wit- 
ness, eagerly.  "  I  said  to  Anneke  while  we  were 
trying  to  stop  the  bleeding,  '  This  is  the  longest  day 
I  ever  spent !  Where  can  Dr.  Dale  be  all  this  time?  ' 


Mrs.  Bowersox  takes  the  Stand  333 

I  just  said  it  because  I  was  so  impatient  for  him  to 
come,  I  suppose.  I  said,  '  This  is  the  longest  day  I 
ever  spent.  Where  can  —  ' ' 

"Would  you  be  willing  to  swear  that  the  clock 
struck  seven  after  Dr.  Dale  came?  Could  it  have 
been  eight?  Think  of  it  carefully,  Mrs.  Bowersox, 
before  you  answer.  Can  you  declare,  before  God 
and  man,  that  it  was  not  eight  that  struck?  In  your 
flurry  and  distress,  and  by  lamplight,  maybe  you 
made  a  mistake  when  you  looked  at  the  clock.  I 
know  that  faithful  old  timepiece  well.  But  it  stands  in 
a  rather  dark  corner  when  the  sun  is  down.  Can  you 
swear  the  clock  did  not  strike  eight,  and  not  seven?  " 

"  Mercy  sakes,  no !  I  won't  swear  to  any  such 
thing !  It  would  be  a  terrible  sin  if  it  happened  that 
the  clock  did  strike  eight,  and  not  seven.  Yet  I  'm 
sure —  " 

"You  aren't  sure  it  was  n't  eight  o'clock?  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  it  now  seems  to  you  as  if  it  must  have 
been  eight,  and  not  seven,  doesn't  it?  The  day 
seeming  so  long,  and  the  evening  so  dark  ?  " 

"I  —  don't — know, Sam  !  your  Honour,  I  mean !  " 
panted  the  badgered  woman.  "  Maybe  it  was !  Come 
to  think  of  it —  " 

"  Well !  "  sharply.  "  Speak  out !  you  are  wasting 
the  time  of  the  Court!  " 

This  put  to  flight  the  last  vestige  of  self-possession, 
dissipated  the  remnant  of  memory. 

"I  —  I  —  "  she  began,  then  ended  weakly,  "  Maybe 
'twas!" 

"The  more  you  think  it  over  the  more  you  are 
impressed  by  the  idea  that  it  was  eight  o'clock?" 
pursued  Kruger. 

"  I  don't  know  !  That  is  —  yes !  I  suppose  it  must 
have  been !  " 

"  That  will  do,  Mrs.  Bowersox !  "  announced  her 
tormentor,  leaning  back  in  triumph. 


334  Dr.  Dale 

Hendrickson  came  forward  :  — 

"  One  moment  if  you  please !  Your  Honour,  I 
should  like  to  cross-examine  this  witness  in  behalf  of 
my  client.  You  have  tangled  her  ideas  until  she 
hardly  knows  what  she  is  saying.  Mrs.  Bowersox," 
gently  and  persuasively,  "  you  said  a  few  minutes 
ago,  that  you  were  sure  the  clock  struck  seven  when 
Dr.  Dale  began  dressing  Jeff's  wrist.  Isn't  that 
still  your  impression?  Take  time  to  think  it  over 
calmly.  No  one  wants  to  force  your  convictions. 
We  all  know  how  conscientious  you  are,  and  will  be- 
lieve what  you  say  when  you  are  left  to  yourself." 

The  relief  came  too  late.  Mrs.  Bowersox's  flaccid 
brain  was  one  mazy  jumble  whence  came  no  assured 
knowledge. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  !  I  don't  know !  "  she  murmured 
distressfully.  "The  more  I  think  of  it — '  seems  to 
me,  the  more  I  don't  know !  But  '  seems  to  me, 
maybe  'twas  eight !  " 

In  her  extremity,  Mrs.  Bowersox  talked  strangely 
as  Jeff  would  talk  in  like  circumstances. 

"Much  may  depend  on  your  answer,"  went  on 
Hendrickson,  impressively.  "  Think  again,  please  !  " 

"  I  can't  tell  a  lie  about  it,  Mr.  Hendrickson !  " 
sobbed  the  witness,  breaking  down  miserably  under 
the  protracted  strain.  "  And  the  more  I  think  of  it 
now —  after  what  Sam  Kruger  —  his  Honour  Kruger, 
I  mean  —  said  —  why  the  more  it  seems  it  must  have 
been  eight,  and  not  seven." 

"That  is  all,  Mrs.  Bowersox,"  said  Hendrickson, 
seeing  he  could  not  hope  to  restore  present  order  to 
the  chaos  the  Coroner  had  created  in  her  mind. 

Mrs.  Bowersox  left  the  stand  in  tears.  She  stood, 
helpless  and  bewildered,  for  a  moment,  before  the 
Bench,  not  knowing  which  way  to  turn. 

Dr.  Dale  —  his  mask-like  expression  broken  into 
one  of  infinite  compassion  for  the  poor  old  woman's 


Mrs.  Bowersox  takes  the  Stand  335 

plight  —  took  her  hand,  and  with  words  of  whispered 
comfort  led  her  to  a  seat  beside  Myrtle,  who  rose  to 
receive  her  from  his  hands. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Bell !  what  did  they  ask  me  all  those 
questions  for?"  whispered  Mrs.  Bowersox,  chokingly. 
"  What  did  all  that  have  to  do  with  that  poor  dear 
dead  person  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Myrtle.  "  I  can't  at  all 
comprehend  what  he 's  trying  to  prove." 

Hendrickson  stooped  toward  them,  and  spoke  low : 

"  I  will  tell  you,  then.  The  ass  hates  Dale,  and 
he 's  doing  his  best  to  mix  him  up  in  the  case,  some- 
how, with  a  view  to  disgracing  him." 

"  And  I  helped  him  do  it !  "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Bow- 
ersox, clambering  to  her  feet  by  laying  hold  of  the 
lawyer's  arm,  tears  giving  way  to  indignation.  "  Sam 
Kruger  !  do  you  mean  to  —  " 

"  ORDER  !  "  shouted  Kruger.  "Deputy  Sheriff!  if 
that  person  interrupts  the  Inquest  again,  remove  her 
from  the  room.  Dr.  Dale !  "  glancing  at  a  slip  of 
paper  a  boy  had  just  laid  on  his  desk.  "  Please  take 
the  stand  once  more." 

On  the  slip  of  paper  was  pencilled,  — 

"Ask  Dr.  Dale  where  and  with  whom  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  spending  the  hour  between  six  and  seven 
P.  M.  during  the  two  months  preceding  the  murder. 

"  Ask  him  where  and  in  whose  company  he  was 
during  that  hour  on  the  evening  of  the  day  before  he 
was  seen  with  the  dead  woman. 

"Ask  him  what  is  the  nature  of  his  relations  with 
Miss  Belir 

No  name  was  signed.  The  handwriting  —  although 
this  Kruger  did  not  know  —  was  Kate  Meagley's. 

"  Dr.  Dale,"  said  the  Coroner,  deliberately,  as  one 
feeling  his  way,  step  by  step,  "  I  must  ask  you  to 


Dr.  Dale 


give  me  true  answers  —  true,  direct  answers  —  mind 
you  !  to  the  following  questions." 

He  consulted  the  paper  while  speaking,  puzzled, 
yet  intent  upon  following  the  new  trail. 

"  If  I  give  you  any  answers,  they  will  be  true  ones," 
answered  Dale,  impassively. 

"  I  trust  so  !  "  said  Kruger,  accenting  the  verb  ever 
so  slightly,  but  with  disagreeable  significance.  "  Dr. 
Dale,  you  have  sworn  that  between  the  hours  of  six 
and  seven  on  the  evening  of  March  fourteenth  you 
were  on  your  way  to  Mrs.  Bowersox's  house.  Where 
were  you,  and  with  whom,  between  the  same  hours 
on  the  preceding  evening?" 

For  the  fraction  of  a  second  Dale  seemed  to  hesi- 
tate. In  that  fraction  of  a  second  he  saw  a  firelit 
room,  a  halo  of  flame-kissed  hair  bending  above 
him,  and  half  heard  a  voice  that  breathed,  "  Love  ! 
my  Love  !  " 

"  I  refuse  to  answer  that  question,"  he  said  coldly. 
"  It  has  no  bearing  upon  the  case." 

"  No  ?  "  sneered  Kruger.  "  I  fancy  we  will  prove 
otherwise  presently." 

The  anonymous  hint  was  working  to  a  charm  and 
he  was  elate. 

"  Now,  then  !  "  he  continued.  "  You  refuse  to  an- 
swer, do  you  ?  On  the  ground  that  it  has  no 
bearing  on  the  case  in  hand  ?  When  you  have 
answered  me,  perhaps  the  Court  can  judge  better 
than  you  what  bearing  it  may  have.  I  demand  a 
reply  !  " 

"  I  shall  not  give  it." 

"  We  will  come  back  to  that  later,"  pursued  Kruger. 
"  Though  you  refuse  to  say  where  you  were  on  that 
particular  evening,  you  will  hardly  object  to  telling 
where  and  in  whose  company  you  were  in  the  habit 
of  spending  that  hour  of  the  day  during  the  two 
months  preceding  the  murder." 


Mrs.  Bower sox  takes  the  Stand  337 

"  I  object !  "  interrupted  Hendrickson,  rising.  "This 
surely  cannot  affect  the  case  in  hand." 

"  Sit  down,  sir !  "  thundered  Kruger,  springing  to 
his  feet.  "  And  keep  silent !  Now,  Dr.  Dale  !  I  ask 
you  again,  where  and  in  whose  company  were  you 
between  six  and  seven  o'clock  on  the  night  preceding 
that  on  which  you  were  first  seen  with  the  deceased 
Jane  Doe  ?  Also,  where  and  in  whose  company 
did  you  usually  spend  that  hour  during  the  two 
months  preceding  the  murder  ?  " 

"  I  refuse  to  answer  either  question." 

An  expectant  rustle  ran  over  the  crowd. 

It  encouraged  the  Coroner,  as  his  master's  voice 
urges  on  a  tired  horse.  Still  standing,  and  raising 
his  right  arm  to  add  force  to  the  words,  he  leaned 
toward  Dale  and  said  slowly,  — 

"  I  demand  a  straightforward  reply !  It  may  throw 
a  new  and  interesting  light  upon  this  important  case. 
Listen  to  me,  if  you  please,  and  answer  me  truthfully, 
when  I  put  another  question !  " 

He  paused  for  effect,  and  again  five  hundred  necks 
were  craned  forward  'in  breathless  expectancy. 

Kruger  was  by  no  means  sure  how  his  next  ques- 
tion would  affect  the  matter  in  hand,  but  the  first  two 
anonymous  suggestions  had  borne  fruit,  and  he  had 
hope  of  the  third. 

"  Dr.  Dale !  "  portentously,  bringing  his  face  to  a 
level  with  that  of  the  man  on  the  floor  below  the 
desk,  "  what  are  your  relations  with  — " 

Dale  stepped  close  to  him.  His  face  went  hid- 
eously white.  His  mouth  was  a  mere  line  in  the 
ashen  face ;  the  dark  eyes  glittered  and  glowed  like 
a  lightning-stroke  that  arrested  the  word  upon  the 
Coroner's  lips. 

"  Speak  that  name  "  —  he  whispered  so  low  that 

none  but  Kruger  heard  him  —  "  and  by !  I  will 

kill  you  where  you  stand." 


338  Dr.  Dale 

For  a  moment  the  men  —  one  white,  calm,  and 
deadly,  the  other  florid  and  blustering  —  eyed  each 
other. 

Those  who  were  nearest  Kruger  vowed  afterward 
that  they  saw  the  florid  face  blanch,  and  the  fear  of 
sudden  death  creep  into  the  round  bulging  eyes. 

Then  the  Coroner  dropped  back  into  his  chair,  and 
waved  his  hand  feebly. 

"That  is  all  — for  the  present  — Dr.  Dale!"  he 
said. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

THE   COMMITTAL 

"  The  mob  is  a  blind,  unwieldy  monster  which,  at  first,  rattles  its 
heavy  bones,  threatening  to  swallow  the  high  and  low,  the  near  and 
distant,  with  gaping  jaws,  and,  at  last,  stumbles  over  a  thread." 

KRUGER    leaned    back    in    his   seat   and 
glowered  vindictively  at  Dale  as  the  latter 
left  the  stand  and  returned  to  the  bench 
against  the  wall  where  Hendrickson  sat. 
The  Coroner  did  not  go  on  at  once  with 
the  Inquest,  but  sat  peering  from  under  his  shaggy 
brows  at  the  man  who  had  defied  him. 

It  is  not  pleasant  to  be  cowed.  When  the  cowing 
is  public,  the  process  is  humiliating. 

Myrtle  Bell  had  slipped  from  the  Court-room  with 
Mrs.  Bowersox  after  the  examination  of  that  worthy 
woman,  and  by  alternate  coaxing  and  reasoning  had 
induced  her  to  go  home  in  the  carriage  that  had 
brought  the  Bells  into  town.  Then  Miss  Bell 
had  returned  to  her  brother's  side  in  the  hall. 
Kruger  had  noted  how  respectfully  the  crowd  made 
way  for  her. 

She  had  insulted  him.  He  was  not  sure  just  how 
or  to  what  extent.  He  would  have  to  think  the 
matter  over  and  rehearse  the  dialogue  before  he 
could  decide.  But  she  had  insulted  him,  and  the 
Court  in  him.  There  was  no  doubt  on  that  head. 
He  wished  he  had  forced  Dale  to  answer  that  ques- 
tion as  to  his  "  relations  "  with  her.  Something  lay 
back  of,  and  under  the  query,  —  something  that  might 
cut  the  comb  of  the  upstart  who  had  taken  so  many 
loaves  of  daily  bread  out  of  his  mouth. 


340  Dr.  Dale 

"  I  suppose  he  thinks  I  am  afraid  of  him ! "  mused 
the  Court,  wrathfully. 

The  sullen  glow  turned  upon  the  six  jurors.  As 
was  his  prerogative,  Kruger  had  chosen  his  jury 
from  his  own  small  circle  of  friends.  A  country 
coroner  has  that  privilege.  Most  of  the  six  were  in 
his  debt.  All  were  under  his  thumb  in  one  way  or 
another.  None  chanced  to  belong  to  the  Folger 
wells  or  to  The  Bachelors'  Club. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury !  "  began  the  Coroner, 
clearing  his  throat  noisily  and  expectorating  into 
a  cuspidor  below  the  desk,  before  sitting  up  stiff 
and  straight  as  beseemed  his  office.  "  We  have 
heard  about  all  the  testimony  necessary,  I  guess. 

"We  have  here  a  painful  duty  to  perform,  but  a 
necessary  one.  A  woman  is  found  murdered.  With 
whom  did  she  spend  the  last  day  (presumably)  of 
her  mortal  life?  Who  was  she  seen  with  last? 
Who  has  wilfully  and  deliberately  misstated  the 
hour  of  his  return  from  his  walk  with  this  woman? 
Who  has  refused  obstinately  to  say  where  he  has 
been  lately,  spending  his  time  between  certain 
hours  —  the  time  during  which  the  woman  was 
killed  (presumably)?  In  fact,  to  whom  does  the 
finger  of  guilt  point  with  an  unerring  —  an  —  an 
unerring  finger? 

"  At  Dr.  Egbert  Dale,  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury,  and 
at  no  one  else!  I  instruct  you,  Gentlemen  of  the 
Jury,  to  bring  in  a  verdict  to  that  effect. 

"Here  — "  handing  the  open  leather-bound  book 
to  the  foreman  —  "  on  page  467,  you  will  find  the 
different  forms  of  verdict.  Retire,  and  come  to  a 
decision." 

Solemnly  the  six  functionaries  filed  into  a  side 
room,  the  foreman  taking  the  law-book  with  him, 
another  man  carrying  a  pen  and  an  ink-bottle,  a 
third  bearing  two  sheets  of  foolscap. 


The  Committal  341 

"  What  is  all  this  ? "  exclaimed  Myrtle,  as  they 
left  the  hall. 

She  had  listened  incredulously  to  Kruger's  charge, 
and  now  turned  wondering  eyes  upon  her  brother. 
He  smiled  reassuringly.  He  did  not  look  worried, 
still  less  alarmed. 

"  Hush ! "  he  whispered.  "  It  is  only  a  formality. 
Of  course  Kruger  would  injure  Dale  if  he  could. 
He  hates  him  because  he  is  successful  and  popular. 
In  his  position  as  Coroner,  Kruger  can  annoy  him. 
He  knows  as  well  as  I  do  that  no  Grand  Jury  on 
earth  would  hold  Egbert  upon  such  flimsy  evidence. 
But  he  hopes  to  degrade  him  and  to  profit  by  his 
degradation.  He  feels  he  has  a  long  score  to  pay 
off.  The  attempt  will  harm  nobody  but  himself. 
All  we  have  to  do  is  to  be  patient." 

The  body  of  spectators  took  a  less  philosophical 
view  of  Kruger's  act.  An  ugly  muttering  ran 
through  the  room,  gathering  force  where  groups  of 
oilmen  sat  together,  and  sharpening  to  a  shrill, 
flustered  whisper  of  indignation  as  it  reached  the 
women  huddled  in  one  corner.  With  every  mo- 
ment of  waiting  the  murmur  waxed  louder  and 
deeper.  There  lacked  little  to  change  it  into  a 
roar. 

Again  Kruger's  florid  complexion  was  a  shade 
less  ruddy.  But  a  railing  and  his  raised  desk  were 
between  him  and  the  malcontents;  a  door  was  be- 
hind him.  And,  despite  his  flinching  before  Dale's 
eyes,  the  bully  was  not  a  coward. 

The  Jury  re-entered  the  Court-room.  They  had 
been  gone  four  minutes.  Just  long  enough  for  the 
foreman's  unpractised  hand  to  scrawl  a  verdict. 

He  handed  the  sheet  of  foolscap  to  the  Coroner, 
then  sat  down,  looking  important. 

Kruger  cleared  his  voice  anew,  glanced  over  the 
paper,  stood  up,  and  read  aloud :  — 


342  Dr.  Dale 

"  We,  the  undersigned  jurors,  find  that  the  deceased  Jane 
Doe  came  to  her  death  by  a  blow  on  the  head  at  the  hands 
of  Dr.  Egbert  Dale. 

Signed         JOHN  HOOKER. 

ASA  BRINKERHOFF. 
THOMAS  SMITH. 
WILHELM  VAN  WAGNEN. 
JOHN  F.  POSTHANGER. 
EDMUND  DE  HART,  Foreman.'1'' 

The  silence  that  followed  the  reading  was  more 
terrible  than  any  outcry  would  have  been.  Dale 
had  sat  with  folded  arms  and  downcast  eyes,  his 
features  absolutely  immobile,  since  he  resumed  his 
seat. 

Now  he  looked  Kruger  full  in  the  face.  The  fury 
that  had  transformed  him  into  an  avenging  spirit 
ten  minutes  ago,  had  given  place  to  his  wonted 
gravity;  the  eyes  that  met  Kruger's  no  longer 
blazed.  They  were  tranquil,  and  perhaps  a  shade 
contemptuous. 

Kruger's  gaze  fell.  Again  he  ransacked  the  pages 
of  his  law-book,  turning  them  fast  and  nervously. 

The  stillness  grew  oppressive  —  ominous. 

"Well!"  drawled  an  oilman  from  the  middle  of 
the  room.  "  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  " 

The  tension  snapped.  There  was  a  hoarse  guffaw 
from  all  sides.  Men  looked  shamefacedly  at  one 
another.  They  had  actually  been  afraid,  for  a  mo- 
ment, that  some  harm  threatened  Dale.  The  inter- 
ruption had  restored  their  senses.  They  were  again 
disposed  to  look  on  the  whole  affair  of  the  Inquest 
as  a  farce. 

The  laughter  brought  Kruger  to  his  feet  with  a 
bound. 

"  Order !  Order ! "  he  called.  Then  —  "  Dr.  Egbert 
Dale !  this  intelligent  Jury  of  your  peers  finds  you 


The  Committal  343 

guilty  of  the  deceased  Jane  Doe's  dec  —  death.  In 
my  capacity  as  Coroner,  I  must  bind  you  over  to  a 
magistrate  who  will  hold  you  to  await  the  next  sit- 
ting of  the  Grand  Jury. 

"Deputy  Sheriff!  send  across  to  Squire  Worten- 
dyke  and  ask  him  to  step  here.  He's  the  nearest 
Justice  of  the  Peace." 

The  Coroner  finished  his  speech  without  inter- 
ruption. The  ominous  silence  again  gripped  the 
tongues  and  dazed  the  senses  of  the  crowd. 

Myrtle  made  one  convulsive  movement  toward  her 
lover,  hands  clasped  and  a  stifled  exclamation  of 
horror  upon  her  lips.  John  checked  her,  and  whis- 
pered reassuringly  in  her  ear. 

Dale  had  not  moved  a  muscle.  His  only  expres- 
sion was  one  of  weariness  approaching  boredom. 

And  still  the  bodeful  silence  hung,  like  a  pall, 
over  the  throng  for  full  twenty  seconds. 

Then  the  burly  Irishman  who  had  interrupted 
Dale's  testimony,  again  uplifted  his  voice,  — 

"Is  the  man  a  starrk,  starring  fool?  It's  Tom 
Dale  he  should  be  afther  —  not  an  innocent  man  — 
and  a  gintleman!" 

A  figure  shot  up  against  the  rear  wall  of  the  room, 
—  long,  lank,  bronzed,  and  bearded. 

Kruger  recognised  him  as  a  former  ranchman  from 
Southern  Arizona  who  had  followed  the  oil-boom  to 
Pitvale,  bringing  his  wife  with  him.  She  had  fallen 
ill,  and  Kruger  was  called  in.  Not  until  he  had 
declared  that  she  and  her  unborn  child  must  both 
die,  was  Dale  summoned  in  consultation  by  the 
frantic  husband.  Mother  and  child  were  saved. 
This  was  just  after  the  second  blasting  of  "The 
Ruth,"  and  the  tale  of  one  physician's  failure  and 
the  other's  skill  was  fresh  in  men's  minds. 

Kruger  frowned  heavily,  but  the  man  merely 
waved  his  wide-brimmed  hat  airily  in  his  direction 


344  Dr.  Dale 

and  to  attract  the  notice  of  his  audience,  then  began 
his  speech. 

"  Gents !  "  he  uttered  sombrely.  "  Which  the 
Boys  would  take  this  Kruger  party,  if  we  was  back 
in  Arizony,  and  they  'd  string  him  up  a  lot,  on  the 
business-end  of  a  lariat,  connected  with  the  first 
tree  that  wasn't  otherwise  engaged  at  the  moment, 
fer  compilin'  of  a  verdick  of  thet  natur'.  If  any 
gent  within  the  sound  of  my  voice  will  concoct  a 
motion  to  thet  effect,  I  'm  here  to  say  I  '11  shorely 
back  his  play  up  to  the  limit." 

The  odd  diction  did  not  provoke  a  smile.  It 
served,  however,  to  start  again  the  sullen  murmur 
which  sprang  up  now  from  twenty  points  at  once, 
with  increasing  vehemence. 

"  I  'm  in  on  that  deal ! "  yelled  a  grimy  oilman. 

"  String  up  the  Coroner ! "  bawled  a  Tough, 
gleefully. 

The  cry  went  like  wild-fire.  Every  man  was  on 
his  feet.  Every  woman  screamed  who  did  not  faint. 

"Order!"  shrieked  Kruger,  in  an  impotent  effort 
to  stem  the  torrent. 

The  only  response  was  a  general  movement  of 
the  disorganised  mass  towards  the  railing  separat- 
ing the  Coroner's  enclosure  from  the  rest  of  the 
room. 

Kruger  made  a  hasty  backward  step  towards  the 
little  door  behind  his  desk. 

"He  's  gettin'  away!"  howled  the  Tough  who  had 
proposed  stringing  up  the  Coroner.  "  Rush  him, 
boys ! " 

The  rail  snapped  and  splintered  like  kindling- 
wood  before  the  onrush.  Kruger  dashed  for  the 
little  door,  recoiling  from  it  as  if  the  knob  had 
burned  him.  It  was  locked ! 

A  laugh  —  loud,  harsh,  exultant  —  rose  from  the 
crowd.  There  were  no  longer  men  among  them,  — 


The  Committal  345 

merely  atoms  in  that  unthinking,  unhuman,  pitiless 
Horror  we  call  a  Mob. 

Already  the  first  hand  —  the  ranchman's  —  had 
clutched  the  skirt  of  Kruger's  coat,  when  the  assail- 
ant was  sent  spinning  back  among  his  fellows. 

"Back!"  commanded  a  voice  that  pierced  the 
uproar  like  a  bugle-call.  "  Back,  men  !  Back,  and 
listen  to  me ! " 

Changed  as  were  the  intonations,  more  than  one 
hearer  recognised  the  voice  that  had  soothed  a  sick 
child  to  sleep,  or  spoken  words  of  sympathy  in 
squalid  homes. 

There  was  a  perceptible  check  in  the  angry  wave 
that  had  just  now  threatened  to  engulf  the  obnoxious 
Coroner.  All  eyes  turned  upward  to  where,  on  the 
dais  at  Kruger's  side,  stood  Egbert  Dale. 

One  arm  was  raised  to  enforce  silence.  The  ter- 
rified Kruger  clung,  shuddering,  to  the  other. 

"What  were  you  about  to  do?"  demanded  Dale, 
as  the  tumult  subsided.  "  This  man  has  done  what 
he  believed  to  be  his  duty.  Would  you  hang  him 
for  t/tat?  Is  there  a  man  among  you  who  would 
come  forward,  alone,  and  deliberately  murder  him? 
There  is  not  one !  Yet,  if  he  is  killed,  every  one  of 
you  will  bear  the  curse  of  murder  upon  your  souls. 
And  for  what  good?  At  the  worst,  I  shall  be  im- 
prisoned for  a  few  days.  My  arrest  is  nothing  but  a 
legal  formality." 

The  mob,  quieted  for  a  moment,  began  to  stir 
uneasily  and  to  growl  angrily.  It  was  silenced,  not 
appeased. 

"For  God's  sake,  men!"  pleaded  Dale,  feeling 
throbbing  in  the  deep  voice,  his  soul  in  his  eyes, 
"don't  ruin  by  a  single  mad  act  the  work  John  Bell 
and  I  have  tried  for  years  to  do !  We  have  worked 
hard  to  make  you  better,  happier,  more  comfortable. 
Our  best  energies  —  our  very  lives,  have  been  spent 


346  Dr.  Dale 

in  your  service.  Was  it  all  for  nothing?  Is  Pit- 
vale  still  the  lawless,  drunken  community  of  three 
years  ago?  Where  is  the  improvement  you  prided 
yourselves  —  which  we  prided  ourselves  upon?  In 
the  presence  of  women  —  your  wives  and  daughters 
—  in  the  presence  of  a  minister  of  the  gospel  of 
peace  —  would  you  murder  an  innocent  man  ?  You 
are  angry  with  Dr.  Kruger  because  you  think  he  is 
committing  me  to  jail  unjustly." 

"  He  'd  better  not ! "  cried  a  voice. 

"  He  can  do  nothing  else,  believing  what  he  does. 
Are  you  going  to  commit  a  more  grievous  fault  by 
killing  him  without  trial  ?  And  you  are  the  men  I 
was  proud  to  call  my  friends ! " 

A  muttering  —  this  time  of  doubt  —  swept  through 
the  Mob,  and  with  the  doubt  it  ceased  to  be  a  Mob. 

"What  do  you  want  us  to  do,  Doctor?"  asked 
Sandy  McAlpin,  breasting  the  calmer  waves  to  the 
front.  "You've  only  to  speak  the  word." 

Dale's  rare,  winning  smile  lighted  up  his  face. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  McAlpin !  I  want  you,  one 
and  all,  as  a  favour  to  me  and  to  Mr.  Bell,  to  leave 
the  Court-room  quietly,  and  to  take  no  further  steps 
against  Dr.  Kruger.  I  beg  every  man  who  is  my 
friend  to  obey  both  these  requests.  Go,  please ! " 

He  motioned  toward  the  door,  and  bowed  cour- 
teously. 

For  an  instant  the  crowd  gazed,  undecided,  at  the 
commanding  arm,  the  beautiful  face  gleaming  with 
high  resolve,  the  erect,  fearless  figure. 

Then  they  turned,  shuffled  sheepishly  from  the 
hall,  and  trailed  down  the  stairs. 

John  Bell,  powerless  to  quell  the  riot,  had  caught 
up  his  sister  in  his  arms,  and  stepped  back  into  the 
Jury-room  near  at  hand.  Through  the  door,  which 
he  left  ajar,  they  had  witnessed  the  scene  in  the 
outer  hall. 


The  Committal  347 

Behind  them,  unobserved  by  the  Bells  until  the 
Court-room  was  cleared,  were  two  other  refugees 
from  the  human  storm. 

Myrtle  recoiled,  and  John  bowed  stiffly,  as  they 
recognised  Kate  Meagley  and  the  Rev.  C.  Mather 
Welsh.  The  latter  buttoned  up  his  coat  defiantly, 
and  marched  past  brother  and  sister  without  a  word. 
Kate  smiled  superciliously. 

"Quite  dramatic,  was  it  not?  I  had  no  idea  Dr. 
Dale  was  such  an  orator.  But  he  is,  all  the  while, 
surprising  us  in  one  way  or  another.  Mr.  Welsh ! 
if  you  are  going  home,  I  can  offer  you  a  seat  in  my 
brougham." 

They  left  the  Court  House  together. 


CHAPTER   XXX 
THE  "PREFERRED"  PRISONER 

"  I  know  not  whether  Laws  be  right, 
Or  whether  Laws  be  wrong, 
All  that  we  know  who  lie  in  gaol 
Is  that  the  wall  is  strong  ; 
And  that  each  day  is  like  a  year, 
A  year  whose  days  are  long. 

"  But  this  I  know,  that  every  Law 
That  men  have  made  for  Man, 
Since  first  Man  took  his  brother's  life 
And  the  sad  world  began, 
But  straws  the  wheat  and  saves  the  chaff 
With  a  most  evil  fan." 


1 


horror  of  the  Select  Circle  of  Pitvale 
at  the  detention  of  their  popular  physician 
in  the  common  jail  upon  a  charge  so  pre- 
posterous and  abominable  as  the  murder 
of  an  unknown  vagrant,  was  surpassed  by 
the  indignation  of  the  populace. 

With  his  social  equals  Dr.  Dale  was  dignified  in 
deportment,  independent  in  speech.  The  few  men 
of  his  own  age  belonging  to  the  Select  Circle,  who 
affected  the  airs  of  the  jeunesse  dorfa,  secretly  re- 
sented, while  they  admired,  a  certain  fine  hauteur 
which  is  the  born  aristocrat's  armour  of  proof.  To 
the  poor,  the  lowly,  the  suffering,  to  women  and  to 
little  children,  to  prisoners  and  to  captives,  his 
gentleness  was  invincible.  In  attic,  in  cellar,  in 
hut,  his  rich-toned  voice  was,  as  sorrowing  women 
said,  like  that  of  an  angel.  The  practised  touch  of 
the  trained  physician  was  joined  in  him  to  mesmeric 
finger-tips  which,  his  grateful  patients  believed,  had 


The  "Preferred*    Prisoner  345 

the  gift  of  healing.  He  handled  the  human  body 
reverently;  he  wrought  in  its  upbuilding  as  upon  a 
temple. 

All  this  was  said,  in  homelier  and  stronger 
phrase,  at  street-corners,  in  cottage-homes,  in  shop 
and  pump-house,  and  most  forcibly  in  the  Club  of 
the  prisoner's  founding. 

A  petition  that  was  to  be  monstrous  in  propor- 
tions was  circulated  zealously,  praying  the  munici- 
pal and  county  authorities  to  set  Dr.  Dale  at  liberty 
on  bail,  without  awaiting  the  action  of  the  Grand 
Jury,  which  would  not  meet  in  three  weeks  from  the 
day  of  the  Inquest.  The  committal,  it  was  urged, 
was  irregular  and  unjust,  if  not  actually  illegal. 

John  Bell  checked  the  movement  midway  by  rep- 
resenting to  the  bearers  of  the  paper  the  uselessness 
of  the  appeal  and  the  desire  of  the  accused  man  to 
await  the  regular  course  of  investigation. 

Then  he  carried  the  document  —  sheet  upon  sheet 
of  stout  foolscap,  pasted  into  a  strip  six  yards  long 
—  to  the  prisoner. 

Dale  took  it  without  a  word,  laid  it  upon  the  table, 
unrolling  it  gradually  to  read  every  one  of  the  five 
hundred  and  six  names  already  appended  to  it. 

Many  of  the  signers  had  made  their  marks  against 
the  names  written  for  them  by  others, — sprawling 
crosses  dug  into  or  splashed  upon  the  sheet.  Here 
and  there  they  meant  it  so  much  that  the  pen  went 
through  the  paper.  The  signatures  of  Mrs.  Theo- 
dorus  Vandergrift  of  Vandergrift  Hall,  and  those  of 
her  three  daughters,  in  the  strident  characters  fabled 
to  have  been  imported  from  England  for  the  express 
use  of  America's  Upper  Ten,  loomed  directly  above 
the  wavering  scratches  Bridget  O'Leary  and  her 
sister  Madonnas  of  the  wash-tub  and  scrubbing- 
brush  could  hardly  see  to  trace  for  hot  and  angry 
tears.  Well-men  had  left  the  imprint  of  greasy 


350  Dr.  Dale 

thumbs  in  the  margin  by  which  they  had  held  the 
paper;  their  employers  affixed  their  individual  sig- 
natures, and  added  the  style  and  address  of  their 
respective  corporations,  representing  millions  of 
dollars. 

Dr.  Dale  uttered  an  inarticulate  sound,  more 
moved  than  mirthful,  as  he  laid  his  finger  upon 
the  signature,  in  old-fashioned  script,  of  "  Sarepta 
Bowersox"  It  was  followed  by  the  names  of  her 
husband  and  their  three  household  employees,  and 
then,  in  legible  characters,  was  inscribed  "  Thomas 
Jefferson  Bowersox. " 

John  smiled  in  answer  to  his  friend's  look. 

"Yes!  she  guided  his  hand.  He  was  bent  upon 
signing  it." 

He  walked  to  the  hearth  and  poked  the  fire  assid- 
uously, that  he  might  not  see  the  prisoner  bow  to 
kiss  Jeff's  name. 

"May  I  keep  this?  "  asked  Dale,  when  he  had  fin- 
ished reading,  and  began  to  roll  up  the  manuscript. 

"  Of  course  you  may.  I  thought  you  would  like 
to  have  it.  The  hearts  of  your  people  are  with  you, 
old  man,  and  the  farce  will  be  played  out  within 
an  hour  after  the  Grand  Jury  comes  together.  The 
burlesque  upon  justice  is  all  Kruger's  work." 

"And  Cotton  Mather  Welsh's  and  the  Middle 
Miss  Meagley's,"  smiling  cynically. 

"They  were  dragged  into  it  by  the  Coroner!" 
asserted  John,  earnestly.  "Ruth  tells  me  Miss 
Kate  cried  all  night  after  the  Inquest,  and  she  has 
been  pitiably  unnerved  ever  since.  Ruth  thinks 
she  is  threatened  with  nervous  prostration.  Welsh 
went  out  of  town  the  morning  after  the  committal, 
and  has  not  shown  up  since.  Sandy  McAlpin  can- 
not be  persuaded  that  he  hasn't  run  away  to  keep 
out  of  the  boys'  clutches.  Mrs.  Bowersox  has  a 
dreadful  suspicion  that  he  has  committed  suicide, 


The  "Preferred"  Prisoner  351 

driven  to  it  by  remorse  for  having  defamed  an  in- 
nocent man.  I  may  mention,  as  the  first  known  in- 
stance of  its  kind,  that  she  did  not  say  '  poor  dear ! ' 
in  speaking  of  him.  In  fact,  she  confided  to  Myrtle 
her  fear  that  she  '  almost  hated  that  man,  minister 
or  no  minister.  She  hoped  hating  wasn't  a  mortal 
sin  when  a  person  just  couldn't  help  it.' ' 

"  Sandy  was  here  last  night  to  say  that  the  boys 
hold  themselves  ready  to  tear  down  the  jail  if  I 
want  to  get  out."  The  moved  smile  had  returned 
to  Dale's  eyes.  "I  told  him  such  a  thing  was  not 
to  be  thought  of,  even  if  I  could  n't  walk  out  of  the 
front  door,  or  get  out  through  any  one  of  four  win- 
dows at  any  time,  if  I  chose  to  do  it.  I  said  that 
I  am  taking  the  first  vacation  I  have  had  in  three 
years;  that  —  and  this  is  true  —  lam  living  on  the 
fat  of  the  land.  Mrs.  Sydney  brought  her  sick  baby 
in  to  me  this  morning,  looking  upon  me  as  a  resi- 
dent physician. 

"  By  the  way,  I  am  going  to  trouble  you  to  bring 
me  a  medicine-case  from  the  office.  It  stands  in 
the  closet  of  my  private  office,  and  is  lettered  *  No. 
2.'  Here  is  the  closet -key." 

"  I  look  into  the  office  every  day, "  rejoined  John, 
as  he  pocketed  the  key.  "You  will  find  everything 
in  order  when  you  get  back. " 

Dale's  eyes  wandered  wearily  about  the  room. 

"  Mrs.  Wilmerding  sent  a  hamper  of  game  yester- 
day and  the  orchids  on  the  table.  Mrs.  Sydney 
baked  waffles  for  my  breakfast;  I  had  oysters  last 
night.  As  for  flowers!"  waving  his  hand  toward 
the  bouquets  and  baskets  set  wherever  there  was 
space  for  them.  "  It  took  me  ten  minutes  to  trans- 
fer my  riches  to  the  hall  last  night.  Did  you  ever 
hear  of  the  man  whose  wife  poisoned  him  by  filling 
his  bedroom  with  his  favourite  hyacinths,  and  then 
shutting  doors  and  windows  while  he  slept?  I 


352  Dr.  Dale 

should  be  drugged  with  the  balm  of  a  thousand 
flowers  if  I  were  to  sleep  with  all  those  in  here, 
unless  I  were  to  shut  myself  up  in  what  Mrs.  Syd- 
ney dignifies  as  my  bed-chamber.  It  has  no  win- 
dow. Then  I  should  be  asphyxiated  by  carbonic 
acid  gas.  I  should  have  the  bed  moved  into  this 
room,  were  it  not  that  the  Sydneys  call  the  two  '  a 
soot  of  rooms,'  and  are  so  artlessly  proud  of  them." 

It  was  the  third  day  of  his  confinement.  The 
apartment  was  part  of  the  jailer's  family  residence 
—  their  guest-chamber,  in  fact,  the  largest  and  best 
in  the  house.  Thick  rugs  that  never  belonged  to 
the  Sydneys  were  spread  upon  the  ingrain  carpet ;  a 
roller-top  desk,  a  centre  table  with  an  embroidered 
cover,  a  lounge  heaped  with  pillows;  book-shelves, 
easy-chairs,  and  a  handsome  student's  lamp  had  been 
sent  down  by  Ruth  Folger,  and  put  into  place  by 
'Bat'  and  his  partner,  with  the  royal  disregard  of 
prison-regulations  that  guided  their  joint  adminis- 
tration. Books,  magazines,  and  newspapers  littered 
the  tables;  muslin  curtains,  also  sent  in  by  Ruth, 
draped  the  windows.  Not  a  bar  was  to  be  seen  in 
one  of  the  four.  A  fire  of  noble  hickory  logs  burned 
in  the  chimney. 

"I  am  doing  an  excellent  imitation  of  the  pam- 
pered minion  of  fortune,  you  see,"  continued  Dale, 
in  the  same  strain  of  affected  levity.  "It's  a  pity 
Welsh  has  left  town.  He  might  get  some  new  ideas 
as  to  the  modus  operandi  of  flourishing  like  a  green 
bay-tree. 

"And  speaking  of  Welsh  reminds  me  that  Hen- 
drickson  opened  his  legal  counsel  to  me  the  morn- 
ing after  I  came  here  by  advising  me  not  to  tell  him 
even  confidentially  if  there  were  anything  '  shady ' 
about  my  relations  with  the  deceased  woman." 

"No?"  interjected  John,  indignantly. 

"Fact!  he  says  he  cannot  do  himself  justice  if  he 


The  "Preferred"  Prisoner  353 

has  reason  to  suspect  that  his  client  is  guilty.  He 
prefers  to  base  a  hypothesis  of  defence  upon  the 
evidence  given  in  open  Court  and  to  work  up  that. 
There 's  something  in  it.  It  took  me  somewhat 
aback,  I  confess.  I  had  n't  given  the  profession 
credit  for  that  much  squeamishness.  It  argues  the 
existence  of  a  legal  conscience.  I  said  to  him  that 
if  he  had  put  me  in  the  confessional  instead  of 
warning  me  to  hold  my  tongue,  my  answer  would 
have  been  the  same.  I  should  have  communicated 
nothing  I  had  not  said  at  the  Inquest.  Hendrick- 
son  is  a  good  fellow,  and  the  most  honest  member 
of  his  guild  I  know.  By  the  way,  again,"  hurry- 
ing over  the  sentences,  "  I  made  my  will  yester- 
day. Hendrickson  has  it.  Whatever  becomes  of 
me,  Ralph's  intentions  toward  your  sister  will  be 
carried  out. 

"  Now,  let  us  talk  of  pleasanter  things.  How  does 
she  stand  affected,  to-day,  with  regard  to  the  decree 
that  she  is  to  keep  away  from  —  my  present  quar- 
ters, the  Hotel  Sydney?" 

John  shook  his  head  dubiously. 

"  She  is  suspiciously  tractable.  For  forty-eight 
hours  she  rebelled  furiously,  as  I  told  you.  Not 
until  Ruth  took  our  side,  and  begged  her  not  to  fly 
into  the  face  of  our  opposition,  did  she  yield  one 
hair's  breadth.  She  spends  most  of  the  day  with 
Ruth.  She  is  always  at  home  in  the  evening  to 
meet  me.  She  is  as  true  as  steel  —  plucky  beyond 
any  other  woman  I  ever  saw  —  with  perhaps  one 
exception." 

Dale  sat  in  an  arm-chair,  resting  his  chin  on  his 
hand,  gazing  into  the  fire,  —  his  most  habitual  atti- 
tude when  thoughtful  or  weary.  His  hair  had  silvered 
perceptibly  in  the  last  fortnight.  The  clear  olive  of 
his  complexion  had  grown  delicately  transparent; 
the  classic  contour  of  his  features  was  refined,  not 

23 


354  Dr.  Dale 

sharpened,  by  the  ordeal  he  was  undergoing.  While 
courage  had  not  flagged  for  an  instant,  it  was  easy  to 
see  that  his  pride  bled  inwardly  under  the  ignominy 
of  his  position.  To  such  a  man  to  be  accused  of  a 
crime  was  more  galling  than  conviction  and  sentence 
would  be  to  coarser  spirits. 

"  I  think  the  world  does  not  hold  two  other  women 
like  them,"  he  said  lowly  and  fervently.  "  I  write  to 
Myrtle  every  day  how  welcome  the  sight  of  her  would 
be  to  me,  yet  how  inflexible  is  my  conviction  that  it 
would  be  wrong  for  her  to  come  here ;  that  she  must 
not  be  mixed  up  in  this  wretched  business.  At  least 
one  pair  of  eyes  is  watching  her  every  movement. 
One  person  is  ready  to  take  cruel  advantage  of  any- 
thing that  could  be  used  to  annoy  or  hurt  her." 

John's  broad  shoulders  were  braced  against  the 
high  wooden  mantel ;  his  hands  were  thrust  deep  into 
his  pockets.  From  his  superior  height  he  surveyed 
his  friend,  an  indulgent  smile  in  the  honest,  loving 
eyes. 

"  Come  now,  old  chap !  you  are  getting  morbid ! 
There  is  n't  a  creature  in  all  Pitvale  this  day —  leaving 
out  Kruger  and  his  beggarly  crew  of  toadies  —  who 
does  n't  wish  you  well  out  of  this  scrape.  You  don't 
hear  them  talk.  /  do !  " 

"The  Meagleys,  for  instance?"  a  faintly  bitter 
gleam  crossing  his  face. 

John  snapped  his  ringers. 

"  Bah  !  that  for  the  whole  tribe  !  What  influence 
has  a  set  of  notorious  gossips,  unpopular  in  them- 
selves, and  whose  father  —  crazy  or  sane  —  caused 
Ralph  Folger's  death  —  upon  public  opinion?  And 
why  should  they  care  to  injure  you,  if  they  had  the 
power?  Which  I  deny !  " 

"  Kate  Meagley  rules  the  '  tribe,'  as  you  call  it. 
Without  going  into  particulars,  let  me  tell  you  that 
she  hates  me  —  with  or  without  cause  —  with  perfect 


The  "Preferred"  Prisoner  355 

hatred.  Moreover,  that  she  knows  how  matters  stand 
between  your  sister  and  myself,  and  will  not  hesitate 
to  use  that  knowledge,  when  the  time  comes,  to  the 
best  advantage  for  her  schemes,  and  the  worst  for  us. 
I  cannot  say  this  to  Myrtle ;  you  cannot  say  it  to  Miss 
Folger  unless  you  are  prepared  to  bring  proof  of 
what  you  assert.  And  these  proofs  I  cannot  give. 
There  are  things  a  man  does  n't  speak  of  to  his  best 
friend." 

"  I  hope,"  resumed  John,  after  a  thoughtful  pause, 
"  that  you  judge  the  girl  too  harshly.  She  has  be- 
haved well  about  our  engagement.  There  is  not  a 
symptom  of  jealousy  or  wounded  feeling,  although 
she  knows  now  how  long  the  affair  has  been  going 
on.  She  said  to  me,  in  the  most  delicate  and  tactful 
manner,  yesterday,  that  she  means  to  go  home  to  her 
mother  when  we  are  married.  She  has  wished,  for  a 
long  time,  to  have  her  sisters  open  a  school  for  small 
children  and  become  self-supporting,  They  were  not 
willing  to  undertake  it  unless  she  would  superintend 
everything.  While  she  could  be  of  service  to  Ruth, 
she  would  not  speak  of  it  to  her.  As  matters  now 
stand,  she  asked  me  to  broach  the  subject  to  Ruth, 
and  persuade  her  to  give  her  up." 

Dale  lifted  his  head  for  a  long  stare  at  the  speaker, 
and  then  laughed  outright,  as  he  had  not  laughed 
since  Ralph  Folger  died. 

"  O  Nathanael  without  guile !  "  he  cried,  when  he 
could  use  his  voice.  "  If  I  could  make  others  see  you 
as  I  see  you,  you  would  be  the  greatest  show  on 
earth  !  John  B.  Gough  defined  a  greenhorn  as  '  a  man 
who  is  perfectly  honest,  and  believes  everybody  else 
to  be  as  honest  as  himself.'  That  is  John  Bell !  out 
and  out,  and  every  time  !  Seriously,  my  dear  fellow, 
I  would  chop  off  my  right  arm  at  the  shoulder  if,  in 
losing  it,  I  could  gain  your  conscience,  your  faith  in 
your  fellow-man,  and  in  women,  who  are  so  far  from 


356  Dr.  Dale 

being  our  fellows  that  not  one  of  us  ever  really  com- 
prehends one  of  them. 

"  When  the  Meagley  School  for  small  children  is 
opened,  we  will  talk  further  of  these  things.  Which 
is  equivalent  to  dismissing  the  matter  for  good  and 
all." 

"  It  does  me  good  to  hear  you  laugh,  even  at  me ! " 
rejoined  John,  imperturbably  good-natured.  "  That  I 
don't  see  the  point  of  the  joke  does  n't  affect  my  en- 
joyment of  your  amusement." 

"  '  Amusement ! ' '  Dale  had  returned  to  his  study 
of  the  coals ;  his  face  was  dark  to  moroseness.  "  It  has 
been  many  a  long  year  since  I  was  really  amused.  A 
learned  philologist  says,  '  Whatever  amuses  serves  to 
kill  time,  to  lull  the  faculties,  and  to  banish  reflection.' 

"  Time  has  hung,  living  and  heavy,  upon  my  hands 
all  my  life.  My  faculties  have  been  too  keenly  alive 
to  suffering  of  all  sorts.  Reflection  upon  these  and 
other  miseries  has  been,  like  the  world  Wordsworth 
saw,  '  too  much  with  me.'  Time,  the  faculties,  and 
reflection  are  having  things  all  their  own  way  with 
me  nowadays.  You  may  recollect  how  Hodge 
summed  up  the  pleasures  of  church-going  to  his 
rector? 

" '  I  can  just  put  me  feet  up  an'  think  o'  nothin' 
by  the  hour.' 

"  /  can  sit  here  all  day  long  and  think  of —  every- 
thing !  " 

"I  cannot  say  that  he  is  unaccountably  depressed," 
said  John  Bell  to  his  betrothed  in  describing  the  inter- 
view. "The  inaction  of  prison  life  must  be  intol- 
erable to  a  man  of  his  habits  and  energy,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  galling  circumstances  of  his  confine- 
ment. These  things  do  not  demoralise  him  in  the 
sense  of  weakening  courage  and  will.  He  would  not 
show  the  white  feather  in  the  face  of  death  itself. 
But  he  is  embittered.  And  bitterness  does  not  be- 


The  "Preferred"'   Prisoner  357 

long  to  Dale's  nature.  He  has  the  tenderest  heart 
in  the  world  under  his  impassiveness." 

"  As  I  have  every  reason  to  know  !  "  returned  Ruth, 
her  sweet  eyes  glistening  gratefully.  "  Do  you  know, 
Jack,  if  I  were  in  Myrtle's  place,  I  'd  marry  him  out 
of  hand  to  get  the  blessed  privilege  of  staying  with 
him  and  comforting  him?" 

"  '  A  girl  she  would  a- wooing  go, 
Whether  her  lover  would,  or  no ! '  " 

parodied  John,  in  feigned  liveliness.  "  Dale  would 
never  consent  to  the  sacrifice.  No  true  man  would, 
were  he  in  his  place. 

"  There  are  heroes  as  well  as  heroines,  pet,"  —  with 
an  arch  smile  into  her  troubled  face,  —  "  in  this  world 
of  ours  that  seems  so  out  of  joint  just  now." 


CHAPTER    XXXI 

AGAINST    ORDERS 

"•  I  count  men's  words  but  idle  breath, 
Innocuous  find  their  gall ; 
But  o'er  the  lily  of  thy  fame 
I  would  not  have  it  fall." 


1 


•^iHE  world  looked  hopelessly  disjointed 
and  black  as  a  starless  midnight  to  him 
who,  in  the  late  afternoon  of  a  bleak, 
bright  April  day,  a  week  after  the  inter- 
view related  in  the  last  chapter,  gave  up 
the  attempt  to  interest  himself  in  a  volume  of  Emer- 
son's Essays,  and  sat,  listlessly  watching  a  bar  of  red 
sunlight  sliding  up  the  wall  opposite  the  western 
windows. 

It  was  a  whitewashed  wall.  The  lime  had  been 
often  renewed,  and  the  consecutive  coats  were  in  evi- 
dence in  sundry  places.  Some  of  the  earlier  deposits 
were  gray,  some  embrowned  by  smoke.  Traces  of 
scribbling  were  visible  upon  several,  offering  chances 
of  the  discovery  of  a  serial  palimpsest  to  a  curious 
idler.  Where  the  outer  coating  had  scaled  away  in 
one  place,  a  space  was  exposed  a  foot  square.  Some- 
body —  perhaps  a  former  "  preferred  "  prisoner  —  had 
left  just  there  a  barbarous  charcoal  sketch  of  a  gallows 
and  a  man  hanging  from  it.  Beneath  the  sketch  were 
scratched  the  words,  "My  Family  Tree"  Subse- 
quent applications  of  whitewash  had  dimmed  the 
lines,  but  the  red  sunbeam  brought  them  out  for  the 
listless  eyes. 

When  the  gleam  travelled  past  it,  the  eyes  reverted 
again  and  again  to  the  barbarous  etching. 


Against  Orders  359 

The  room  was  at  the  back  of  the  house,  and 
comparatively  remote  from  street  noises.  The  late 
spring  was  slow  and  sour.  It  was  a  March,  not 
an  April  wind  that  shook  the  loose  window-sashes 
and  piped  through  the  keyhole  from  the  draughty 
passage. 

Hendrickson  had  passed  an  hour  with  his  client 
that  afternoon.  The  lawyer's  well-meant  efforts  to 
enliven  the  prisoner  had  depressed  him  instead. 

"  Vanity  of  vanities  !  "  he  sighed,  in  recalling  the 
professional  jokes  to  which  he  had  lent  fatigued  ears, 
the  adjuration  to  "  keep  up  his  courage  and  hope  for 
the  best  as  a  certainty,"  that  had  made  away  tediously 
with  sixty  minutes  of  the  leaden  time. 

At  seven  o'clock  Mrs.  Sydney  would  bring  in  his 
supper  and  talk  of  the  baby's  convalescence  and  the 
chances  of  a  relapse,  while  he  pretended  to  eat  it. 
There  would  still  remain  two  hours  and  a  half  be- 
fore bedtime.  Even  under  the  milk-mild  regime  of 
kindly  'Bat'  Sydney,  visitors  could  not  spend  the 
evening  with  prisoners. 

To-morrow  would  be  just  such  another  day —  and 
the  next  —  and  the  next  —  and  so  on  until  the  middle 
of  the  month  should  bring  the  meeting  of  the  Grand 
Jury. 

"  I  wish  it  were  to-morrow !  "  he  muttered,  rising 
to  pace  the  floor,  —  ten  strides  from  wall  to  wall, 
ten  strides  back  again. 

What  if,  in  the  inscrutable  caprice  of  law  and  jus- 
tice, twelve  jurors,  "  good  men  and  true,"  were  to 
give  the  law  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  of  his  innocence 
and  sentence  him  to  fifteen  years  —  twenty  —  a  life- 
time of  this  sort  of  existence? 

He  halted  at  the  charcoal  sketch. 

"  I  'm  not  sure  I  should  n't  prefer  that !  "  he  said, 
aloud. 

Already  the  sound  of  his  own  voice  startled  him. 


360  Dr.  Dale 

Voluntary  seclusion  was  one  thing,  compulsory  soli- 
tude another. 

The  tense  lines  of  the  mouth  softened  as  he 
checked  his  stride  and  laid  his  hand,  in  light  ca- 
ressing, on  the  shining  key-board  of  an  upright  grand 
piano  which  was  not  there  a  week  ago.  He  passed 
his  fingers  silently,  almost  reverently,  over  the  keys. 

Standing  thus  for  nearly  a  minute,  his  half-shut 
eyes  conjured  up  a  vision  that,  from  the  look  which 
stole  over  his  face,  must  have  been  fraught  with  peace. 

His  hand  went  from  the  keyboard  to  his  inner 
pocket.  He  drew  forth  a  letter,  worn  by  much  read- 
ing, opened  it  and  perused  it  as  one  who  cons  some- 
thing he  already  knows  by  heart. 

The  note  had  come  with  the  piano.  It  was  brief. 

"  DEAR  HEART,  —  They  won't  let  me  come  to  you  !  So  I 
send  my  dearest  possession  in  my  place.  Play  on  it  in  the 
twilight  sometimes — " 

"  As  if  I  could !  "  interpolated  the  reader,  with  an 
odd  catch  in  his  breath. 

—  "  Play  on  it  in  the  twilight  sometimes ;  shut  your  eyes  and 
imagine  I  am  beside  you.  O  my  own  !  I  am  with  you,  at 
heart,  always,  always!" 

Dale  folded  the  note  and  slipped  it  back  into  his 
pocket.  The  light  died  from  his  face,  leaving  it  very 
weary. 

Loneliness  again  enwrapped  him  around.  It  was 
intangible,  invisible,  but  terribly  present.  He  breathed 
with  difficulty  in  silence  that  might  be  touched  were 
he  to  put  out  a  hand. 

A  tap  at  the  door  must  mean  an  uncovenanted  call 
from  Mrs.  Sydney,  with  talk  than  which  felt  silence 
and  solitude  were  more  endurable. 

He  threw  himself  into  a  chair  in  saying,  "  Come  in  !  " 
and  leaned  his  forehead  upon  his  hand. 


Against  Orders  361 

An  attitude  that  did  not  invite  sociability  might  be 
some  protection. 

A  light  rustle  of  skirts,  quite  unlike  the  slow  swing 
of  Mrs.  Sydney's  brown  merino,  the  sound  of  foot- 
steps that  skimmed  the  floor  as  a  sea-bird  the  billow, 
and  soft,  warm  hands  were  pressed  upon  his  aching 
eyes ;  kiss  after  kiss,  like  showering  rose-leaves,  cooled 
his  forehead. 

Before  he  could  start  up,  Myrtle  Bell  fluttered  to  a 
perch  upon  his  knee  and  had  his  head  between  her 
hands ;  her  face,  rosy  with  exercise  and  sparkling  with 
smiles,  was  close  to  his. 

"  My  love !  my  love  !  "  was  all  he  could  say. 

Nothing  but  that,  in  every  intonation  love  could 
inspire.  And  then,  wildly,  "Is  it  a  dream?  Have 
I  gone  mad  at  last?  " 

It  was  like  the  loving,  volatile  sprite  to  pinch  his 
ears,  to  assure  him  of  her  identity.  Like  her,  too, 
to  divert  a  dangerous  current  by  chat  of  common 
things.  Her  first  sentence  steadied  his  brain,  — 

"  Mrs.  Bowersox  —  poor  dear  !  —  brought  me.  We 
took  a  close  carriage.  To  conserve  the  proprieties, 
you  know !  If  I  had  my  way  —  which  I  am  not 
likely  to  get  while  you  and  Jack  live  —  I  should 
come  every  day,  and  bring  you  all  your  meals. 
Beautiful  has  my  tea-basket  here.  He  stood  close 
to  the  door  until  he  was  wanted,  like  the  well-bred 
chaperon  he  is.  You  can  always  count  upon  the 
Marquis  to  do  the  proper  thing.  Come  here,  old 
fellow,  and  pay  your  respects !  " 

She  patted  him  in  taking  the  basket  from  his 
jaws. 

Beautiful  paid  his  respects  by  rearing  himself  upon 
his  hind-legs,  putting  his  forepaws  upon  Dale's 
shoulders,  and  giving  a  genteel  whine  of  sympathy 
before  dropping  on  all-fours.  His  appreciation  of 
the  changed  conditions  of  all  three  was  so  apparent 


362  Dr.   Dale 

that  Myrtle  could  have  cried  more  easily  than  she 
laughed. 

"  Very  neatly  expressed,  Monsieur  le  Marquis !  " 
she  cried  approvingly.  "  Now  lie  down  and  make 
yourself  comfortable  and  small,  while  I  give  Dr.  Dale 
his  supper.  I  have  tea,  cream,  sugar,  a  spirit-lamp 
and  kettle.  And  in  this  basket,  which  I  brought,  not 
caring  to  tempt  the  Marquis  to  mouth-watering  by 
the  odour  thereof,  —  there  are  rolled  sandwiches,  thin 
as  writing-paper,  just  as  you  like  them,  and  some  of 
the  incomparable  Bowersox  cookies,  fresh  from  the 
oven.  I  am  going  to  make  tea  and  help  you  to 
drink  it.  Mrs.  Sydney's  mother  was  an  old  crony  of 
Mrs.  Bowersox's,  and  Mrs.  '  Bat '  knows  how  to  be 
discreet.  You  should  have  heard  the  dear  soul  tell 
her  that '  Dr.  Dale  and  Miss  Bell  are  great  friends  — 
almost  like  brother  and  sister,'  and  that  '  we  two  — ' 
that  is,  Mrs.  Bowersox  and  Mrs.  Sydney  — '  will  have 
a  nice  gossip  here,  while  Miss  Bell  makes  a  cup  of 
tea  and  some  music  for  that  poor  lonely  dear  who 
never  ought  to  be  where  he  is  —  God  forgive  Sam 
Kruger!' 

"  It  was  fun  alive  !  " 

The  tea  was  made,  the  dainty  equipage  that  had 
come  in  the  basket  was  set  in  order  upon  the  table, 
and  the  lovers,  facing  one  another  over  the  teacups, 
had  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  and  chatted  for  a 
good  half-hour  before  Dale  could  bring  himself  to 
utter  what  should  have  greeted  the  appearance  of  the 
unlooked-for  guest,  — 

"  You  ought  not  to  have  done  this,  dear  heart ! 
You  must  not  do  it  again  !  " 

"  So  Jack  has  remarked  repeatedly,"  said  Myrtle, 
composedly.  "  So  Ruth  says.  She  says  most  things 
that  Jack  says  nowadays.  I  never  promised  to 
obey  them.  I  meant,  all  the  time,  to  come.  And 
when  Jack  let  slip,  to-day,  that  he  was  '  afraid  confine- 


Against  Orders  363 

ment  was  beginning  to  tell  upon  your  spirits/  I 
determined  to  see  for  myself  how  you  are.  You 
can't  scold  me,  now  I  'm  here,  no  matter  how  hard 
you  try." 

"  Scold  you !  "  He  grasped  her  hands,  his  face 
colourless  with  intensity  of  feeling.  "  Do  you  need 
to  have  me  tell  you  that  the  sight  of  you  is  life  to  the 
perishing,  food  to  the  starving?  That  the  room 
will  have  the  chill  and  the  gloom  of  the  grave  when 
you  go  ?  I  have  asked  myself,  times  without  number, 
since  I  have  known  you,  if  man  could  love  woman 
more  entirely,  more  madly  than  I  love  you.  I  know 
now  no  man  ever  did  or  could. 

"  But,  dear  child  !  that  very  love  makes  me  say  you 
must  not  come  to  me  again.  Whatever  Hendrick- 
son  and  others  may  think,  I  am  sure  the  trial  will 
come  off.  Jack  calls  me  '  pessimistic.'  Hendrickson 
will  have  it  that  my  presentiment  is  superstition.  I 
have  it,  by  night  and  by  day.  They  declare  I  have 
no  enemies  who  would  bestir  themselves  to  do  me 
harm.  I  know  better.  And  I  will  not  have  you 
made  the  target  for  malice  and  impertinence.  The 
money  which  he  who  has  gone  meant  should  make 
us  happy  will  be  a  decoy  to  gossips,  public  and 
private.  Your  picture  will  figure  in  sensational  news- 
paper reports ;  every  item  of  your  personal  history 
will  be  worked  up  into  '  copy.'  Ah !  the  thought 
makes  my  blood  boil !  And  I  shall  not  only  be 
powerless  to  stand  by  you,  but  I  shall  suffer  the  tor- 
ments of  the  lost  in  knowing  all  this  has  come  on  you 
through  me !  " 

"  Don't !  don't !  "  pleaded  the  girl,  pressing  a  firm 
soft  hand  over  his  mouth.  "  Jack  is  right.  All  this 
horror  you  Ve  been  through  has  made  you  morbid. 
Why,  darling !  it  is  n't  a  bit  like  you  to  feel  so. 
When  you  're  free  again,  and  the  wind  is  in  your 
face,  and  the  spring  sunshine  in  your  eyes,  you  '11 


364  Dr.  Dale 

laugh  at  the  recollection  of  your  gloom.  You  talk  as 
if  this  miserable  legal  technicality  were  of  real 
importance.  Don't  you  know  not  a  soul  in  Pitvale 
believes  you  to  be  anything  but  the  hero  —  the 
honest,  honourable  man  you  are?  Don't  you  know 
there  is  n't  a  shred  of  evidence  against  you  ?  Why, 
the  Grand  Jury  will  free  you  within  ten  minutes  after 
the  case  comes  before  them.  Even  the  Philadelphia 
and  Harrisburg  papers  say  so,  and  that  your  arrest 
was  a  '  travesty  on  justice  unworthy  of  a  civilised  age.' 
Be  reasonable,  dear  !  " 

She  spoke  passionately ;  the  hand  that  smoothed 
the  care-lines  from  his  forehead  was  magnetic,  and 
carried  mental  healing  in  its  touch. 

A  great  burden  seemed  to  drop  from  Dale's  shoul- 
ders. In  one  flash  of  conviction  he  saw  his  case 
with  her  eyes.  Freedom  —  life  —  love  —  Myrtle  !  — 
all  were  before  him. 

He  caught  the  girl  in  his  arms,  laughing  hysteri- 
cally. It  was  such  an  irrational  revulsion  of  feeling 
as  can  come  to  an  intense  nature  alone,  and  to  one 
all  unused  to  happiness. 

"What  a  fool  I've  been!"  he  laughed.  "And 
what  a  sorceress  you  are,  darling,  to  open  my  eyes  to 
the  truth  !  I  don't  know  how  you  Ve  done  it.  Cer- 
tainly not  by  argument,  for  John  has  said  all  that  to 
me  a  dozen  times.  I  think  it  was  your  presence,  your 
touch,  your  voice.  You  led  me  into  the  sunshine 
once  before,  dear  love  !  I  feel  now  that  you  will  keep 
me  there.  You  are  the  whole  world  to  me,  sweet- 
heart. You  Ve  changed  the  face  of  the  universe 
itself  for  my  eyes. 

"  And  here  I  am  talking  like  a  dime-novel  swain, 
and  feeling  like  a  schoolboy  the  day  before  vacation, 
while  the  main  facts  remain  unchanged." 

"  What  facts  ?  "  asked  Myrtle,  demurely. 

"  That  you  should  n't  have  come  here.     That  you 


Against  Orders  365 

mustn't   come   again.     That  you  must  go  home  at 
once." 

"  Three  leading  propositions  !  To  the  first  I  agree, 
if  you  say  I  must.  To  the  second  I  consent,"  reluc- 
tantly, "if — if  you  insist.  The  third  has  neither 
rhyme  nor  reason.  I  won't  go  home  at  once  !  " 

"  You  must,  dear." 

"  Why,  I  should  like  to  know !  "  returned  the  girl, 
with  pretty  wilfulness.  "  The  danger  you  point  out 
is  in  my  being  here  at  all.  Now  that  I  'm  here, 
why  should  I  hurry  away?  I  won't  have  been  here 
any  the  less  because  my  stern  tyrant  orders  me  from 
his  presence  before  my  visit  is  half  out.  In  very 
plain  language,  I  'm  not  going  to  leave  you,  until,  as 
Jeff  says,  '  I  am  good  and  ready.'  And  that  won't 
be  for  an  hour  to  come.  You  may  as  well  make  up 
your  mind  to  that.  Of  course,  if  I  bore  you  — 

He  did  not  let  her  finish  the  sentence. 

"  There  !  "  she  rebuked,  disengaging  herself.  "  Will 
you  have  the  goodness  to  look  at  my  hair?  When 
Mrs.  Bowersox  sees  it,  her  ideas  of  our  Platonic 
friendship  will  be  shaken  to  their  roots  —  poor  things  ! 
I  spent  fifteen  solid  minutes  —  when  I  might  have 
been  improving  my  mind  —  in  making  my  hair  look 
nice  for  your  benefit,  and  in  fifteen  seconds  you  Ve 
utterly  wrecked  it." 

"  It  perished  gloriously,"  consoled  Dale.  "  Let  it 
rest  in  peace.  There 's  a  glass  over  the  fireplace. 
You  can  set  the  hair  to  rights  before  you  go." 

Myrtle  walked  to  the  window.  Twilight  was  set- 
tling upon  the  jail-yard. 

"  Egbert !  "  dropping  her  light  tone,  and  speaking 
under  her  breath,  "  let  down  the  shades !  "  Don't 
light  the  lamp ;  the  fire  gives  a  better  light.  I  '11 
play  for  you.  It  will  be  like  home  again." 

Dale  laid  a  couple  of  fresh  logs  on  the  fire,  and  low- 
ered the  shades.  Myrtle  had  seated  herself  at  the  piano. 


366  Dr.  Dale 

"  Shall  I  sing,  or  just  play?  " 

"  Play." 

Her  hands  wandered  idly  over  the  keys  for  a  min- 
ute, then  the  first  bars  of  the  "  Siegfried  Idyll," 
breathing  of  peace  and  of  forest  life,  far  from  the  tur- 
moil of  man,  rose  through  the  red  duskiness. 

Dale  laid  a  cushion  upon  the  floor  beside  the  piano- 
stool,  sank  happily  down  upon  it,  his  head  resting 
against  Myrtle's  side,  his  eyes  wandering,  as  of  old, 
between  the  dancing  firelight  and  the  shadowy  face 
above  him. 

The  player  knew  his  tastes  in  music.  To-night 
she  would  play  nothing  that  might  jar  upon  his  pres- 
ent mood  of  happy  reaction  and  hope.  As  the  "  Sieg- 
fried Idyll "  was  ended,  her  hand  slid  down  to  his 
head  and  lay  there  in  a  mute  caress.  He  drew  it  to 
his  lips.  Neither  spoke. 

Outside,  the  raw  wind  had  risen  to  a  blast  that 
shook  the  windows  and  sent  fitful  puffs  of  smoke 
down  the  chimney. 

Myrtle's  released  hand  went  back  to  the  keys. 
Dale  shut  his  eyes  that  he  might  the  better  see  the 
pictures  music  always  painted  for  his  mind. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  very,  -very  happy  \  "  he  sighed  in  sheer 
content. 

For  the  dear  hands  were  playing  Dvorak's  "  Hia- 
watha's Wooing."  Dreamy,  tender,  restful,  infinitely 
sweet,  embodiment  of  utter  contentment  —  the  strains 
stole  upon  the  prisoner's  nerves  in  placid  benediction. 
In  this  music  there  was  no  strife,  no  baffled  longing, 
no  haunting  omens  that  would  not  down.  Nothing 
but  calm,  repose,  Peace  ! 

"  Why  did  Dvorak  call  it  '  Hiawatha's  Wooing,' 
I  wonder,"  mused  the  girl,  aloud,  as  she  played. 
"•There  is  no  incertitude,  no  doubt,  no  passion  in  it. 
It  were  better  called  '  Hiawatha's  Betrothal.'  " 

Dale,  with  closed  eyes,  saw  no  love-scene.     The 


Against  Orders  367 

music  to  him  called  up  a  boundless  stretch  of  prairie, 
clad  in  the  pale  verdure  of  early  spring.  A  soft  wind 
breathed  across  it,  bending  the  short  grass  into  gentle 
wavelets,  with  here  and  there  an  eddy.  Spring 
flowers  starred  the  prairie.  Spring  sunshine  smiled 
down  upon  it.  The  air  was  full  of  spring.  Not  one 
human  figure  broke  the  beautiful  monotony,  —  least 
of  all,  any  hand-painted  savage  with  primitive  ideas 
on  the  subject  of  wooing. 

The  girl  ceased  playing;  her  hand  slid  again  to 
Dale's  head.  She  glanced  down  at  him,  and  their 
eyes  met. 

"  '  Lenore  !  ' "  he  said. 

She  obeyed  without  speaking;  the  air  throbbed 
with  the  opening  measures  of  the  march  from  Raffs 
great  symphony. 

A  new  note  had  been  struck.  The  dreams  called 
up  by  Wagner's  "  Idyll  "  and  "  Hiawatha's  Wooing  " 
vanished. 

Again  the  listener  saw  the  high-walled  Italian  street, 
the  hot,  palpitating  sunlight,  the  black  cortege  bear- 
ing the  dead  hero  whose  face  was  bathed  in  a  tri- 
umphant light  that  was  not  of  this  world.  The 
dreamer  heard  alternately  the  low  weeping  of  women, 
and  the  fierce,  despairing  scream  of  the  trumpets, 
re-echoing  from  wall  to  wall. 

"  The  death-song  of  a  soul !  "  he  repeated  to  him- 
self. "  Conquered,  yet  conquering;  vanquished,  yet 
victorious;  sin-stained,  but  fearless.  The  soul  of  a 
MAN." 

A  "  drunk  and  disorderly  "  in  one  of  the  basement 
cells,  who  had  been  enlivening  his  enforced  solitude 
by  alternate  song  and  profanity,  paused  in  a  musical 
exhortation  (addressed  to  one  Jennie,  whom  he  ad- 
jured to  "  wait  till  the  clouds  rolled  by !  ")  and  heark- 
ened, open-mouthed,  to  the  distant  notes  of  the  piano. 
Mrs.  Bowersox,  discoursing  with  the  jailer's  wife,  two 


368  Dr.  Dale 

rooms  off,  felt  her  eyes  fill  with  tears,  and  knew 
why. 

A  little  black-clad  man  stopped  short  on  the  steps 
of  the  jail  —  the  entrance  being  on  a  side  street  just 
below  Dr.  Dale's  room  —  listened  for  a  minute;  then 
for  some  reason  he  could  never  explain,  decided  to 
postpone  for  another  half-hour  the  visit  he  had  come 
to  make. 

"  Don't  play  any  more !  "  whispered  Dale,  as  the 
last  chord  of  the  march  crashed  out.  "  I  want  to 
carry  the  memory  of  that  in  my  mind  until  we  meet 
again." 

He  had  her  hand,  holding  it  between  both  of  his, 
his  head  against  her  side.  The  fingers  of  the  other 
hand  roamed  lightly  through  his  hair,  stroking  it 
back  from  his  temples,  soothing  him  as  a  woman's 
alone  can  do. 

Thus  they  sat  in  silence,  each  reading  an  Arcadian 
future  in  the  shifting  gleam  of  the  flames  that  leaped 
up  the  chimney.  In  silence  that  was  not  silence. 
Wordless,  but  speaking  direct  from  heart  to  heart. 

The  clock  on  the  mantel  struck  six.  The  mellow 
tones  of  the  Club-house  chimes  tolled  out  the  same 
number  of  strokes.  The  sound,  remote  but  dis- 
tinct, reached  the  lovers. 

Dale  rose  and  stretched  out  his  arms  to  the  girl. 
The  hour  of  parting  had  come. 

Despite  her  assurance  that  in  a  little  over  a  week 
her  betrothed  would  be  free,  Myrtle  clung  to  his 
neck  almost  hysterically,  her  stout  heart  quailing 
for  one  dark  moment.  She  could  not  trust  her 
voice  to  speak.  She  felt  his  arms  tighten  about  her 
slender  body  almost  painfully,  and  comprehended 
that  the  causeless  spirit  of  dread  had  entered  into 
his  heart  from  her  own.  Their  lips  met  —  then 
again,  and  yet  again. 

And  after  that  the  door  closed  and  she  was  gone. 


Against  Orders  369 

Left  to  himself,  the  momentary  horror  departed 
from  the  prisoner.  His  spirits  rose  to  the  level  to 
which  Myrtle's  presence  had  buoyed  them. 

He  sat  down  by  the  fire.  While  the  half-light 
lingered,  he  could  imagine  Her  still  there. 

After  a  time  he  heard  footsteps  in  the  passage 
leading  to  his  room. 

Unwilling  to  have  Mrs.  Sydney  know  that  he  and 
Myrtle  had  been  sitting  in  the  firelight,  he  sprang 
up,  struck  a  match  and  lighted  the  lamp. 

As  the  blaze  flickered  upward,  the  door  opened. 
There  had  been  no  inquiring  tap. 

Dale  turned. 

The  Rev.  Cotton  Mather  Welsh  stood  in  the 
doorway. 


CHAPTER    XXXII 

MR.  WELSH   PAYS   HIS  DEBT 

"  For  time,  at  last,  makes  all  things  even  ; 
And,  if  we  do  but  watch  the  hour, 
There  never  yet  was  human  power 
That  could  evade,  if  unforgiven, 
The  patient  search  and  vigil  long 
Of  him  who  treasures  up  a  wrong." 

DALE   looked  at  the  new-comer  in  sur- 
prised inquiry. 
Welsh  was  surveying  the  room,  taking 
in  each  detail   as  the  rising   lamplight 
made  all  distinct.     His  red-rimmed  eyes 
swept  from  wood-fire  to  desk  and  revolving  desk- 
chair;  from  curtains  to  book-case  and  lounge,  and 
so  on  until  they  rested  on  the  open  piano,  in  grow- 
ing wonder  and  disapproval.     Last  of  all,  his  gaze 
fell  on  Dale.     It  was  gloomily  menacing. 

He  sat  down  without  uttering  a  sound. 

His  manner  irritated,  yet  amused  the  doctor. 

"Mr.  Welsh,"  he  said,  after  waiting  in  vain  for 
the  other  to  open  the  conversation,  "  it  seems  that 
when  you  visit  prisoners  and  captives  you  enter  as 
informally  as  when  you  last  honoured  my  poor  office 
with  your  presence.  I  trust  you'll  not  force  me 
again  to  speed  the  parting  guest,  as  I  had  to  do 
then." 

"  Luxury ! "  commented  Welsh,  his  eyes  again 
touring  the  apartment.  "  Godless  luxury !  '  I  have 
seen  the  wicked  in  great  power  and  spreading — '  : 

"I  am  familiar  with  the  quotation,  thank  you!" 
broke  in  Dale.  "  May  I  ask  to  what  I  am  indebted 
for  this  call  ?  Have  you  come  to  take  holy  joy  in 


Mr.  Welsh  pays  his  Debt     371 

the  work  you  helped  to  do?  Or  have  you  so  far 
fulfilled  Scriptural  commands  as  to  forgive  this 
particular  enemy,  and  come  here  to  set  at  liberty 
him  who  is  bound?" 

"  Man ! "  cried  Welsh,  springing  to  his  feet  in  a 
sudden  rage,  "  Man  of  sin !  Son  of  Belial !  Do  you 
add  blasphemy  to  your  other  enormities?  Do  you 
dare  make  their  sum  greater  by  scoffing  at  Holy 
Writ?" 

"If  you'll  kindly  name  a  few  of  the  enormities 
you  refer  to  vaguely,  it  will  be  more  to  the  point, 
and  I'll  understand  you  better.  At  present,  I  am 
somewhat  in  the  dark. " 

"Their  name  is  Legion:  Godlessness;  Perfidy; 
Hypocrisy;  Perjury;  and  to  crown  all  —  Murder!" 

"The  Grand  Jury  will  prove  a  better  judge  of  that 
than  you,  my  friend.  Suppose  we  wait  for  its  de- 
cree before  indulging  in  such  terms.  What  you 
have  said  is  distinctly  libellous,  at  present." 

"  What  do  I  care  for  that  ? " 

"Very  little  —  judging  from  what  I  know  of  you. 
Others  may  care  more." 

"  What  others  ? "  Welsh's  sneer  was  ugly. 
"Yourself  and  —  " 

"  Not  I,  for  one!  "  remarked  Dale.  " If  it  amuses 
you  to  take  advantage  of  your  cloth  and  of  my  posi- 
tion, and  shriek  insults  at  me,  why,  keep  it  up,  by 
all  means.  I  only  spoke  for  your  own  good,  in 
advising  you  not  to  repeat  the  experiment  in  public. 
Some  of  the  townspeople  and  oilmen  may  forget  that 
you  are  a  minister  of  the  gospel  of  peace  and  love 
in  recognising  the  fact  that  you  are  vilifying  one 
of  their  friends.  In  which  case  the  consequences 
may  prove  just  a  trifle  unpleasant  for  you,  you 
know.  But  do  as  you  like,  of  course.  I  merely 
threw  out  the  warning  as  a  suggestion." 

Welsh  was  mute.     Dale  looked  for  another  out- 


372  Dr.  Dale 

burst  of  wrath,  and  it  seemed  on  the  way.  It 
changed  suddenly  to  a  smile.  The  brooding  gleam 
did  not  look  to  the  observer  like  a  smile  of  Chris- 
tian forgiveness.  In  spite  of  himself,  it  worried 
him.  He  was  angry,  too,  that  the  aura  of  Myrtle's 
presence  in  his  room  should  so  soon  be  dispelled  by 
a  malignant  influence.  He  felt  the  idyllic  mood 
into  which  her  visit  had  charmed  him  gradually 
changing  into  the  intolerance  and  disgust  which 
contact  with  the  fierce  little  bigot  always  induced. 

He  had  fancied  for  an  instant  that  Welsh  had 
come  to  pay  him  a  pastoral  visit,  and  had  been  half- 
ashamed  of  his  own  incivility.  He  was  now  sure 
the  man  was  there  to  gloat  over  a  worsted  foe.  The 
thought  completed  the  wreck  of  his  happier  frame 
of  mind. 

"  There  are  certain  disadvantages  in  being  a  pris- 
oner," he  said,  after  a  pause.  "One  advantage 
hitherto  has  been,  that  I  need  see  no  one  I  did 
not  choose  to  see.  May  I  ask  how  you  got  in 
here?" 

"  I  called  to  see  Richard  Avery,  who  is  incarcer- 
ated downstairs  —  in  a  real  prison-cell.  My  visit 
to  him  could  wait,  so  I  stepped  in  here,  instead  of 
going  down  to  the  basement." 

"  While  Sydney  was  looking  the  other  way,  I  sup- 
pose? Well!  well!  Love  laughs  at  locksmiths, 
they  say.  And  true,  earnest  friendship,  such  as 
you  feel  for  me,  cannot  be  barred  out  by  all  the  Bat 
Sydneys  on  earth.  It  really  touches  me  to  think 
how  strong  that  friendship  must  be,  when  it  leads  a 
man  of  God  to  enter  the  jail  under  a  lying  pretext, 
and  sneak  into  my  room  while  my  jailer's  back  is 
turned.  Truly,  greater  love  hath  —  " 

"I  did  none  of  these  things!"  snorted  Welsh,  a 
puff  of  rage  ruffling  the  sallow  face.  "I  came  to 
the  jail  to  visit  Richard  Avery  also.  I  shall  —  " 


Mr.  W^elsh  pays  his  Debt     373 

"I  thought  I  recognised  Dick  Avery's  voice!" 
interposed  Dale,  sarcastically.  The  impulse  to 
prod  the  intruder  out  of  his  senses  was  gaining 
upon  him.  "  It  rises  fitfully  now  and  then  from 
the  cells.  He  was  brought  in  last  night.  At  first, 
if  I  might  judge  from  sounds,  he  was  indulging  in  a 
mild  attack  of  the  horrors.  This  morning,  the  D. 
T.  changed  into  coherent  and  picturesque  profanity. 
For  the  past  few  hours  a  melting  mood  has  come 
upon  him,  and  he  has  broken  forth  into  song.  You 
can  hear  him  now,  if  you  listen  hard." 

Dale  had  not  sat  down,  although  the  visitor  had 
resumed  his  chair.  Standing  on  the  other  side  of 
the  table  from  Welsh,  his  hands  behind  him,  a 
sneer  in  every  feature,  he  looked  like  a  handsome 
Mephistopheles  despising  the  wretched  thing  before 
him,  while  he  could  not  refrain  from  goading  it. 

"'Drunken  Dick,'  as  the  boys  call  him,  is  —  if  I 
mistake  not  —  a  parishioner  of  yours,  Mr.  Welsh," 
he  pursued  cruelly,  as  Welsh  continued  to  stare  at 
him,  and  to  breathe  stertorously  as  one  whom  wrath 
had  bereft  of  speech.  "Didn't  I  read  in  one  of  the 
Home  Missionary  papers  an  account  of  his  conver- 
sion, signed  by  you  ?  " 

"  Avery  is  a  poor,  weak  vessel ! "  The  last  taunt 
restored  to  Welsh  the  use  of  his  tongue.  He  forced 
himself  to  seem  dignified.  "A  pitiable  backslider, 
who,  I  still  believe,  is  groping  for  the  light." 

Dale  laughed. 

"  Oh,  that  is  what  he  's  doing  —  is  it  ?  "  as  a  crash 
from  below  indicated  that  the  jail  furniture  was  hav- 
ing a  lively  bout  with  the  merry  prisoner. 

Welsh's  eyes  flashed;  his  fist  came  down  upon 
the  table. 

"At  all  events,  Dr.  Dale,  he  is  not  —  "  He 
choked. 

"Not  a  member  of  the  Bachelors'  Club,  you  were 


374  Dr.  Dale 

about  to  say?  No!  With  all  his  faults  he  has 
escaped  that  den  of  iniquity." 

"  I  was  about  to  say  nothing  of  the  sort !  "  snapped 
Welsh.  "  Since  you  force  me  to  speak  out  what  I 
would  have  broken  to  you  more  gradually  —  Avery 
is  an  unwilling  slave  to  drink,  not  a  cold-blooded 
murderer. " 

"No?"  queried  Dale,  flippantly.  "But,  then,  he 
is  young  yet.  Don't  despair.  Give  him  a  chance. 
Hark !  he  is  singing  now !  The  rascal  has  a  good 
voice.  A  little  cracked  by  drink,  at  present,  but 
of  fair  compass." 

He  laughed  again. 

The  voice  of  the  singer,  maudlin  but  strong,  arose 
through  the  floor. 

Welsh  caught  a  line  of  the  song  and  reddened 
furiously. 

"Really,  Mr.  Welsh,"  sneered  Dale,  "I  can't 
compliment  your  convert  on  his  choice  of  ditties." 

"  There  are  many  ribald  songs  —  worse  than  that 
—  to  be  heard  in  Pitvale  of  late  years,"  returned  the 
other.  "  I  have  tried  —  " 

"  Are  there  ?  I  must  bow  to  your  superior  knowl- 
edge of  such  lyrics.  Personally  I  have  so  little 
taste  for  that  sort  of  thing  that  I  have  n't  noticed 
the  popular  liking  for  them." 

The  subterranean  song  rose  to  a  bellow  that  jarred 
the  lamp;  chimney  and  shade  tinkled  together. 
Dale  put  out  a  hand  to  steady  them;  his  slight 
laugh  was  more  disagreeable  than  ever. 

"  If  Paul  and  Silas  had  such  lungs,  it  is  small 
wonder  all  the  prisoners  heard  them,"  he  continued, 
bent  upon  exasperating  the  unwelcome  visitant  into 
leaving  the  room.  "  I  begin  to  understand  why  the 
prison-doors  were  burst  open." 

Before  the  ill-chosen  taunt  had  left  his  lips,  the 
man  repented  him  of  it  and  suffered  in  his  self- 


Mr.  Jf^elsb  pays  bis  Debt      375 

respect.  Although  not  a  church-member,  he  had  a 
profound  reverence  for  the  Book  of  books.  For  a 
second  he  was  inclined  to  apologise  to  the  man  he 
detested. 

Welsh  seemed  not  to  have  heard  him.  He  was 
fumbling  in  his  pocket,  and  presently  fished  up  a 
yellow  paper  folded  lengthwise.  His  manner  was 
ominously  judicial.  He  spoke  so  deliberately  that 
he  appeared  to  bite  off  each  syllable  clean,  and  then 
eject  it. 

"  I  came  here  to-day,  Dr.  Egbert  Dale,  in  a  spirit 
of  fairness,  to  warn  you,  as  a  Christian  minister 
should  warn  even  a  hardened  sinner.  You  received 
me  in  what,  were  I  a  man  of  your  class,  I  should 
call  '  an  ungentlemanly  manner. '  You  have  be- 
littled my  life-work;  you  have  scoffed  at  my  reli- 
gion. I  say  nothing  of  the  insults  you  have  neaped 
upon  my  person.  Those  I  account  as  less  than 
nothing.  I  find  you  rolling  in  the  lap  of  luxury, 
while  a  better  man  languishes  in  a  dungeon  beneath 
your  feet,  and  is  the  butt  of  your  sacrilegious  gibes. 
All  this  shall  not  change  my  purpose." 

"  You  came  to  warn  me,  you  say  ? "  said  Dale, 
indolently  tranquil.  "Very  good  of  you,  I  'm  sure. 
I  shall  be  more  intelligently  grateful  when  I  know 
of  what  I  am  warned." 

"  Of  your  peril,  Dr.  Dale.  If  I  were  not  bound 
by  my  religion  to  forgive  and  to  pray  for  such  as  de- 
spitefully  use  me,  I  should  account  you  my  enemy, 
and  treat  you  as  such.  You  have  reviled  me,  times 
without  number.  Once  you  threatened  —  almost  in 
the  presence  of  a  dying  man  —  to  throw  me  out  of  a 
window.  Once  you  raised  your  hand  against  me  — 
against  an  ambassador  of  the  King  of  kings,  Dr. 
Dale !  I  let  all  that  pass,  and  have  come  here  on 
an  errand  of  mercy,  to  warn  you. " 

Dale  sighed,  as  one  who  has  suffered  long  and 
would  be  patient,  if  the  flesh  were  not  weak. 


376  Dr.  Dale 

"I  haven't  an  idea  what  this  mysterious  preamble 
is  leading  to,"  he  said.  "Though  I  suppose  if  I 
let  you  go  on  talking  long  enough,  I  shall  find  out 
in  the  course  of  time.  But  let  me  say,  here  and 
now,  that  in  spite  of  your  professions  of  forgive- 
ness, you  are  looking  at  me,  at  the  present  moment, 
with  about  the  most  unloving,  unpardoning  expres- 
sion a  meek  and  humble  Christian  can  possibly 
summon  up.  I  speak  of  it  that  you  may  keep  face 
and  words  together  better.  That  is  all.  Go  on, 
please ! " 

For  answer,  Welsh  thrust  forward  the  folded  yel- 
low paper  he  had  drawn  from  his  pocket. 

It  was  creased  and  dirty.  Dale  took  it,  and  un- 
folded it  gingerly. 

As  he  glanced  over  it,  the  fastidious  touch  became 
a  grip  that  almost  tore  the  paper.  The  beautiful 
face  did  not  lose  one  shade  of  its  contemptuous 
calm. 

In  imperturbable  silence  he  passed  the  paper  back 
to  Welsh,  his  black  brows  raised  in  polite  inquiry. 
Instinctively,  as  it  seemed,  he  drew  a  handkerchief 
from  his  breast-pocket  and  wiped  his  finger-tips. 

"Miss  Kate  Meagley  found  this  telegram  —  I  am 
forced  to  conclude  —  providentially,"  said  Welsh, 
now  master  of  himself.  "  Your  dog  was  playing 
with  it  in  the  garden  and  dropped  it  at  her  very 
feet.  It  was  sealed,  but  the  envelope  was  torn  by 
the  dog's  teeth,  and  —  " 

"  And  she  opened  it,  and  read  it,  and  filed  it  away 
for  future  reference,"  finished  Dale.  "An  honour- 
able lot,  most  women  are !  Providence  must  have 
made  them  to  match  men  like  you.  So  she  brought 
it  to  you  in  the  fulness  of  time,  and  between  you, 
you  have  built  up  a  story  laden  with  the  most  de- 
lightful amount  of  sin.  I  'm  sorry  to  disappoint 
you. " 


Mr.   Jf^elsb  pays  bis  Debt     377 

"Impudence  and  insult  won't  serve  you  now,  Dr. 
Dale,"  said  Welsh,  almost  sadly.  "Your  course  of 
crime  is  run." 

"Will  you  end  this  farce  one  way  or  the  other? " 
demanded  Dale,  peremptorily.  "  Will  you  tell  me, 
in  as  few  words  as  possible  —  if  you  can  be  brief 
and  direct !  —  what  you  are  driving  at  ?  " 

But  Welsh  was  not  a  man  of  few  and  direct  words. 
Nor  was  he  minded  to  spoil,  by  haste,  one  iota  of 
the  dramatic  effect  he  had  planned.  The  sensa- 
tional preacher  would  not  be  balked  of  his  finest 
periods. 

"  Do  you  know  — "  more  rhetorical  with  each 
word  — "  do  you  know,  Dr.  Egbert  Dale,  a  woman 
by  the  name  of  Anastasia  Collett  ? " 

He  peered  keenly  across  the  table  into  the  impas- 
sive face.  He  read  there  nothing  of  surprise,  of 
fear,  of  horror.  Nothing  but  boredom,  —  intensest 
weariness  of  him  and  his  subject.  The  black  brows 
still  questioned  him  in  civil  perplexity. 

"  She  is  in  Pitvale ! "  pronounced  Welsh,  and 
made  another  rhetorical  pause. 

A  faint  flicker  of  the  broad  eyelids  —  or  it  may 
have  been  a  shadow  cast  by  the  wavering  flame  of 
the  lamp,  as  Dr.  Dale  returned  his  handkerchief  to 
his  pocket  —  was  the  only  reward  of  a  second  scru- 
tiny of  his  visage. 

"She  is  in  Pitvale."  Welsh  spoke  more  rapidly. 
"She  is  stopping  with  friends  of  mine.  I  shall 
not  tell  you  where.  You  will  hear  from  her  soon 
enough.  She  arrived  to-day.  She  came  with  me." 

Another  pause.     Another  fruitless  scrutiny. 

"  Miss  Meagley  showed  me  that  telegram,  the  day 
of  the  inquest,"  resumed  Welsh.  "We  talked  the 
matter  over,  and  decided  it  was  of  weight.  In  the 
interests  of  justice,  in  the  interests  of  truth,  I  felt 
it  to  be  my  duty  to  follow  up  the  clue.  Miss  Meag- 


378  Dr.  Dale 

ley  agreed  with  me.  She  obtained  some  money  for 
me  —  " 

"From  Miss  Folger.  Upon  the  pretext  that  you 
needed  it  in  your  mission  —  for  secret  deeds  of 
mercy.  Mr.  Bell  mentioned  it  to  me,"  interpolated 
Dale,  quietly. 

The  satirical  accent  infuriated  the  listener.  Was 
the  fellow's  armour  impervious? 

"  And  was  not  that  the  truth  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Was 
not  the  act  one  of  mercy  to  the  community  at  large? 
I  used  that  money  to  pay  my  way  to  the  place 
whence  this  telegram  was  dated.  As  soon  as  I  got 
there  I  set  about  making  inquiries.  In  a  week  I 
had  the  whole  story.  I  used  that  money  to  pay 
Anastasia  Collett's  expenses  and  mine  back  to  Pit- 
vale.  Her  testimony  will  be  of  weight  with  the 
Grand  Jury." 

He  waited  for  Dale's  answer.  The  beautiful  face 
was  a  haughty  mask. 

"What  have  you  to  say  to  all  this,  Dr.  Egbert 
Dale?"  he  asked  magisterially. 

Still  there  was  no  reply.  Dale  stood,  as  before, 
one  hand  behind  him,  the  other  resting  lightly  on 
the  table.  His  great  sombre  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
the  little  minister.  His  face  was  emotionless. 

A  pang  of  doubt  as  to  the  reality  of  his  triumph 
stung  Welsh. 

"  We  are  prepared  to  prove  —  "  he  began  blus- 
teringly. 

The  words  crumbled  under  that  sombre,  unwaver- 
ing gaze. 

Twice  Welsh  essayed  to  speak.  Twice  he  checked 
himself.  Fear  got  hold  upon  him,  — fear  lest  there 
might  be,  after  all,  a  weak  link  in  the  chain  of  evi- 
dence he  believed  he  had  forged  so  cunningly. 

"I  see  you  are  not  minded  to  take  my  warning  as 
I  hoped,"  he  said,  at  last.  "I  am  not  one  to  stab  a 


Mr.  Welsh  pays  his  Debt     379 

man  in  the  back.  I  have  given  you  fair  notice  of 
what  is  coming.  You  are  hardened  in  your  sin.  I 
wash  my  hands  of  you  !  " 

He  looked  back  from  the  door.  Dale  had  not 
stirred.  The  dark  eyes  were  still  fixed  upon  the 
visitor.  Fury  at  the  failure  of  the  dramatic  scene 
arranged  with  such  pains  shook  Welsh  like  a  reed. 
Being  a  pious  man,  he  mistook  it  for  natural  horror 
at  seeing  a  criminal  so  stubbornly  unrepentant. 

"  I  will  leave  you  in  peace  to  your  own  devices ! " 
he  began.  Then,  lashed  into  frenzy  by  the  sight  of 
the  immobile  face,  he  shook  his  fist  at  it,  purple  and 
gurgling. 

"  Peace,  did  I  say  ?  '  There  is  no  peace  to  the 
wicked, '  saith  the  Lord.  '  How  art  thou  fallen, 
Lucifer!  Son  of  the  morning!  Hell  from  beneath 
is  moved  for  thee,  to  meet  thee  at  thy  coming ! ' ' 

He  tossed  both  arms  above  his  head  and  stamped 
from  the  room.  The  door  slammed  heavily  behind 
him. 

Dr.  Dale  stood  emotionless,  expressionless,  a 
graven  image,  for  perhaps  five  minutes  after  Welsh's 
footsteps  ceased  to  echo  in  the  corridor. 

Then  he  heard  the  clink  of  dishes.  Mrs.  Sydney 
was  coming  with  his  supper. 

The  clock  struck  seven.  Just  one  hour  had  passed 
since  Myrtle  left  him. 

"I'm  just  on  time,  doctor!"  chirruped  the 
jailer's  wife,  sidling  into  the  room  with  the  tray. 
"I  know  you  men  don't  like  being  kept  waiting  for 
your  meals." 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Sydney,"  replied  Dale,  kindly. 
"But  I 've  a  bad  headache  to-night.  I  don't  think 
I  shall  eat  any  supper." 

"I  'm  awful  sorry!"  in  motherly  pity,  at  sight  of 
the  livid,  haggard  face.  "  Sha'n't  I  make  you  a  cup 
of  tea?  I've  brought  chocolate.  Can't  you  take 
something  for  your  head  ?  " 


380  Dr.  Dale 

"  I  shall  after  a  while." 

The  doctor  was  bending  over  the  little  medicine- 
chest  he  had  set  on  a  stand.  Mrs.  Sydney  noted 
the  label  on  the  bottle  he  took  out. 

"  Why,  that 's  the  anti  —  stuff  Dr.  Kruger  gave 
Bat  for  his  headaches  before  you  came  to  town ! 
You  told  me  once  it  ought  n't  to  be  fooled  with, 
because  an  overdose  would  stop  the  heart  from  beat- 
ing, or  make  it  work  too  hard,  I  forget  which." 

She  lifted  the  rejected  tray  from  the  table,  but 
lingered.  She  was  a  social  creature  and  fond  of 
her  baby's  doctor. 

"Antipyrin  is  dangerous  stuff  to  meddle  with," 
rejoined  Dale,  holding  the  phial  between  him  and 
the  lamp.  "But  we  doctors  run  risks  we  never  let 
our  patients  take.  It  never  seems  to  hurt  us,  some- 
how. If  it  does  not  relieve  my  head,  I  '11  try  your 
tea  at  breakfast  time.  Fasting  is  a  good  thing  for 
most  diseases." 

He  laid  the  phial  on  top  of  the  medicine-chest,  and 
began  arranging  writing  materials  on  the  centre  table. 

"I  've  some  work  to  do,"  he  said,  his  face  averted 
from  her,  while  he  laid  out  paper,  blotter,  and  pen. 
"Tell  Bat  that  he  must  not  mind  if  I  sit  up  later 
than  usual." 

"  Ought  you  to  write  when  your  head  's  so  bad  ?  " 
objected  the  lingering  landlady.  "Can't  you  wait 
till  morning?  A  good  night's  sleep  —  " 

"I  must  finish  this  writing  to-night,"  answered 
Dale,  still  kindly,  although  his  voice  was  hollow 
from  pain.  "I  '11  get  a  long  sleep  after  it's  done. 
Good-night!  I  'm  glad  the  baby  is  better." 

"Good-night,  sir.  Bat  '11  be  in  before  he  goes  to 
bed,  and  see  you  're  comfortable  for  the  night.  And 
if  you  should  change  your  mind  about  the  tea,  I  'd 
be  only  too  glad  to  make  it  for  you,  if  't  was  at 
midnight ! " 


Mr.  Welsh  pays  his  Debt     381 

"You're  too  good  to  me,  Mrs.  Sydney.  Good- 
night again." 

He  threw  a  fresh  log  on  the  fire,  turned  up  the 
lamp,  watched  it  a  moment  to  see  if  it  were  going 
to  smoke,  and  seated  himself  at  the  table. 

All  his  motions  were  steady  and  mechanical. 

He  dipped  the  pen  in  the  ink  and  wrote  at  the 
top  of  a  large  sheet  of  paper:  — 

"  MYRTLE,  —  T/te  following  is  for  your  eyes  alone. 
Destroy  it  when  you  have  read  it. " 

He  laid  down  the  pen,  resting  his  head  upon  his 
hand  for  a  long  minute. 

Arousing  himself,  he  dashed  off  in  feverish 
haste:  — 

"  The  woman  on  account  of  whose  death  I  was  ar- 
rested was  my  wife. 
"  /  murdered  her. " 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 

A  SHEAF  OF  MEMORIES 

"  Grief,  envy,  hate,  were  mine  in  fullest  measure, 

A  shipwrecked  seaman  I,  on  Sorrow's  tide. 
I  dreamed  of  home  and  hours  of  tranquil  pleasure, 

When  Fate  first  led  my  footsteps  to  your  side. 
Sweet !  in  your  eyes  I  read  a  heavenly  meaning, 

With  love  unchangeable  I  saw  them  glow. 
GOD  bless  thee,  Love !  It  was  but  idle  dreaming, 

GOD  bless  thee,  Love !  Fate  would  not  have  it  so." 

EGBERT  DALE  read  the  two  sentences  he 
had  written,  then  read  them  over  again. 
They  seemed  to  hold  some  morbid  fas- 
cination  for   him.     In  the  second    reading 
his  eye  took  in   Myrtle's  name  at  the  top 
of  the  paper. 

A  strong  shudder  ran  through  him  ;  the  pen  fell 
from  the  convulsed  fingers  to  the  floor.  The  click  of 
the  fall  aroused  him.  He  picked  it  up  leisurely,  and 
began  to  write  again. 

For  a  few  minutes  he  wrote  slowly  and  with  effort. 
A  frown  drew  his  brows  together.  He  had  trouble 
in  choosing  words.  His  sentences  were  short  and 
jerky.  As  he  went  on,  the  frown  passed,  leaving  his 
face  expressionless  and  calm,  like  the  death-mask  of 
Augustus.  His  hand  traversed  the  paper  more  and 
more  rapidly.  Brain  and  pen  were  at  last  in  accord, 
the  one  transcribing,  without  conscious  effort,  the 
thoughts  of  the  other :  — 

"  I  killed  her.  She  was  my  wife.  There  is  the 
whole  story.  She  was  my  wife.  She  came  back  into 
my  life  when  I  believed  her  dead,  to  ruin  the  first 
happiness  I  ever  knew.  I  killed  her. 


A  Sheaf  of  Memories      383 

"  Why  am  I  writing  this  to  you?  I  do  not  know.  I 
am  not  given  to  putting  my  emotions  down  in  black 
and  white.  Perhaps  it  is  the  egotism  of  a  criminal. 
I  am  a  criminal  —  a  murderer.  The  man  you  love  !  I 
can  write  it  without  a  tremor.  I  must  not  think  of 
you  while  I  write  this.  It  is  no  confession  for  the 
world  to  gape  at;  for  the  papers  to  print  under  glar- 
ing head-lines.  It  is  for  your  eyes  alone.  You  alone 
will  read  it.  You  alone  will  know.  You  alone  will 
judge  me.  I  owe  it  to  you.  I  shall  seal  and  envelop 
it  and  send  it  to  you  to-night  by  Sydney.  You  will 
read  it,  and  then  destroy  it.  My  name  will  never  be 
tarnished.  You  will  never  be  sneered  at  as  the  woman 
who  loved  a  wife-murderer.  I  have  arranged  for  that. 
You  will  understand  how,  soon  enough. 

"  Do  you  recollect  the  night  I  said  I  would  tell  you 
the  story  of  my  life  sometime  when  you  had  eight  or 
ten  hours  to  spare? 

"  What  woman  but  you  would  have  awaited  that 
time  without  asking  a  hundred  tactless  questions,  or 
imagining  some  senseless  mystery? 

"  I  keep  my  word.  To-night  I  will  tell  you  all  I 
promised.  I  will  tell  it  briefly,  baldly.  Why  not  ?  It 
is  not  a  pleasant  story,  but  one  to  be  hurried  over  as 
quickly  as  possible.  What  a  fool  I  am  to  shrink  from 
coming  to  the  actual  facts !  But  bear  with  me.  It 's 
very  hard  ! 

"  I  had  pictured  the  time  when  I  should  tell  you  my 
history  from  first  to  last.  I  should  feel  your  touch 
upon  my  hair  and  on  my  face.  The  strong,  trusting 
clasp  of  your  dear  hands  would  help  me  over  the 
darker  passages.  I  should  see  the  pity,  the  love,  in 
your  eyes,  and  that  would  save  me.  When  it  was  all 
told,  I  should  read  pardon,  infinite  womanly  for- 
giveness, in  your  face.  I  should  arise  from  the  con- 
fessional shriven,  safe  forever  in  the  harbour  of  your 
love. 


384  Dr.  Dale 

"  I  am  writing  this  in  a  prison.  You  will  read  it  far 
away  from  me.  Instead  of  drawing  us  together,  the 
confession  will  snap  the  last  link  that  binds  us  the 
one  to  the  other. 

"  If  all  this  seems  maudlin  sentimentality,  forgive  it. 
I  dread  telling  you  the  truth,  though  I  have  already 
told  you  the  worst." 

Dale  paused :  the  frown  gathered  again  between 
the  gloomy  eyes.  There  he  shook  his  muscular  frame 
impatiently,  and  bent  him  over  his  work. 

"  My  name  is  not  Dale.  If  I  have  any  name  at  all, 
it  is  Barretti.  That  was  the  name  my  father  bore.  It 
had  a  '  di '  before  it  once.  When  my  ancestors  were 
counts  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire.  My  father  was 
the  last  of  the  noble  line.  He  was  implicated  in  one 
of  the  premature  Italia  libera  plots.  That  charlatan 
adventurer,  Garibaldi,  was  his  god.  He  incited  Bar- 
retti to  sing  in  public,  '  Italia  libera  ancor  non  /.' 
The  song  was  the  signal  for  a  riot.  My  father  was 
arrested  the  next  day.  He  escaped  imprisonment  for 
life  through  family  influence  and  fled  the  country. 
He  passed  a  year  in  England,  where  he  married. 

"  Then  he  came  to  America,  and  settled  in  New 
Orleans,  where  he  supported  himself  and  his  English 
wife  by  giving  music  lessons,  and  later  as  a  grand 
opera  tenor.  I  remember  him  dimly,  —  a  tall,  hand- 
some man,  with  the  sweetest  voice  I  ever  heard  at  the 
South. 

"  When  I  was  four  years  old,  he  killed  the  woman 
he  loved,  the  wife  who  had  shared  his  poverty  and 
exile.  She  was  my  mother.  I  have  no  recollection 
whatever  of  her,  though  I  used  to  lie  awake  at  night, 
as  a  boy,  straining  my  eyes  into  the  darkness,  trying 
to  call  up  a  vision  of  her.  I  was  foolish  enough  to 
think  that,  if  I  could  carry  with  me  the  memory  of 
my  dead  mother's  face,  life  would  be  easier,  and  I 
could  have  the  thought  that  she  was  watching  over 


A  S heaf  of  Memories      385 

me.  It  was  of  no  use.  In  those  long  nights  I  could 
see  my  father's  face ;  sometimes  a  line  of  grotesque 
heads  —  some  grinning  at  me,  some  dripping  with 
blood  —  would  pass  before  me.  But  no  vestige  of 
my  beautiful  mother. 

"My  father  killed  her  in  a  fit  of  jealous  fury.  When 
his  temper  got  the  better  of  him,  he  was  a  madman. 

"  He  killed  her,  then  fled  to  the  marshes  and  hid 
there.  For  weeks  the  police  hunted  for  him.  At 
last  they  tracked  him  down.  He  was  a  poseur,  an 
Italian  sensationalist.  Who  else  would  have  made  his 
own  sin,  his  terrors,  his  flight,  the  subject  of  a  song? 
Who  else  would  have  laughed  in  the  face  of  the 
police  and  then  blown  his  brains  out  ? 

"  I  told  you  the  story  once  before.  Do  you  recol- 
lect it  ?  —  that  night  at  the  Folgers  ;  when  we  all 
dined  there,  and  Ralph  asked  me  to  sing  ?  It  was  not 
so  outre  as  it  may  seem,  —  my  singing  my  translation 
of  Barretti's  verses.  For  years,  I  had  not  trusted 
myself  to  think  of  him,  or  of  the  terrible  heritage  of 
poverty,  unkindness,  loneliness,  and  evil  passions  he 
had  bequeathed  to  me.  The  memory  was  a  black 
cloud  over  my  life.  Then,  under  your  influence,  I 
came  into  the  sunshine.  I  sang  that  song,  and  gave 
you  its  history  as  a  crucial  test  of  my  new  state  of 
mind.  The  test  succeeded.  Neither  song  nor  story 
cast  more  than  a  fleeting  shadow  over  my  spirit.  I 
was  free  from  the  horror  of  the  murderer's  memory. 

"  My  father  fled  from  justice,  leaving  me,  a  mere 
baby,  to  the  mercy  of  strangers.  I  was  sensitive, 
high-spirited,  and  finely  strung,  precocious  to  a  fault, 
and  as  different  as  an  elfin  changeling  from  the  stolid, 
tow-headed  children  of  the  planters  in  the  neighbour- 
hood to  which  I  was  taken.  No  one  wanted  me. 
Nobody  understood  me.  I  was  not  lovable.  The 
neighbourhood  verdict  was  that  I  must  be  sent  to  the 
New  Orleans  Orphan  Asylum- 

25 


386  Dr.  Dale 

"  Then  a  man  who  had  known  and  admired  my 
father  offered  to  take  care  of  me.  He  was  a  Dr. 
Dale,  an  eccentric,  immensely  wealthy  physician.  My 
father's  voice,  his  fanatical  love  for  Italia  libera, 
and  his  marked  distinction  from  the  slouch-hatted, 
tobacco-chewing  Louisianians,  interested  Dale.  He 
became  a  sort  of  Maecenas  to  the  struggling  tenor. 

"  So,  when  my  father  died,  Dr.  Dale  took  me  to  his 
own  home.  I  lived  in  his  house  from  that  time  until 
I  was  twenty-five  years  old.  He  would  not  adopt 
me  legally,  although  I  was  called  by  his  name ;  nor 
would  he  give  me  a  definite  status  in  his  household. 
By  turns  I  delighted  and  annoyed  him.  He  encour- 
aged me  to  say  so-called  clever  things.  If  they  bored 
him,  he  called  me  '  a  beggar  brat.'  If  they  pleased 
him,  he  would  bring  his  heavy  hand  down  on  my 
shoulder  with  a  shout  of  laughter,  and  perhaps  give 
me  a  gold-piece.  I  sat  by  him  at  his  wine  suppers, 
and  was  plied  with  champagne  and  brandy  for  the 
amusement  of  his  boisterous  guests.  I  jabbered  in 
English  and  Italian,  racking  my  befuddled  brain  for 
funny  things  to  say,  knowing,  child  as  I  was,  that  I 
would  be  turned  out  of  the  room  as  soon  as  I  ceased 
to  be  amusing,  and  be  left  to  sleep  off  my  potations 
wherever  I  chanced  to  fall. 

"  Mrs.  Dale  (a  cold,  feline  woman,  who  hated  me) 
kept  her  son,  who  was  about  my  age,  with  her  in 
their  own  apartments  during  these  orgies.  All  the 
love  and  tender  care  that  can  come  to  an  only  child 
was  lavished  on  him. 

"  Once,  when  I  was  six  years  old,  I  threw  my  arms 
about  Mrs.  Dale's  neck  in  a  spasm  of  demonstrative- 
ness.  I  had  seen  her  son  do  it,  and  how  she  would 
gather  him  in  her  arms  and  kiss  him  and  call  him  pet 
names.  Perhaps,  I  reasoned,  she  would  treat  me  in 
that  way  if  I  made  the  first  advances.  With  a  look 
of  disgust,  as  if  touched  by  a  snake,  she  pushed  me 


A  Sheaf  of  Memories      387 

away  so  violently  that  I  fell  and  cut  my  head  on  the 
corner  of  a  table.  The  scar  is  on  my  temple  now. 

"  When  a  lad,  I  shared  young  Dale's  tutors.  His 
father  explained  to  me  that  he  was  educating  me  that 
I  might  the  better  amuse  him,  and  be  a  congenial 
companion  for  his  leisure  hours.  I  entered  college 
with  Dale,  and  learned  the  faster  for  having  no  social 
life  there.  Young  Dale  took  pains  to  tell  his  mates 
that  I  was  a  dependent  upon  his  father's  charity,  and 
was  there  partly  that  I  might  learn  to  support  myself, 
partly  as  a  sort  of  upper  body-servant  for  him.  He 
even  hinted  that  my  olive  complexion  was  not  due  to 
Italian  blood.  This  was  the  finishing  touch.  The 
quadroon  was  shunned  as  though  he  were  a  leper. 

"  Dr.  Dale's  son  and  I  took  up  the  study  of  medi- 
cine together.  I  was  wild  with  enthusiasm  over  it, 
and  took  extra  courses.  He  was  content  to  scrape 
through.  When  we  were  graduated,  Dr.  Dale  set  up 
his  son  and  heir  in  an  office  of  his  own  in  Natchez 
with  a  liberal  allowance,  the  fellow  having  a  fancy  for 
that  city.  I  stayed  in  New  Orleans  as  the  father's 
assistant.  I  did  this  on  his  voluntary  promise  that 
he  would  leave  me  his  practice  and  one  hundred 
thousand  dollars  at  his  death. 

"  I  worked  as  his  unpaid  partner  until  I  was  twenty- 
five.  Then  he  died  without  a  will.  His  wife  was 
dead.  His  son  came  into  his  whole  estate,  returned 
to  his  native  city,  and  claimed  his  father's  practice. 
I  was  homeless  and  penniless. 

"  For  the  next  three  years  I  was  a  wanderer. 

"  I  don't  like  to  recall  that  time.  Every  good  im- 
pulse seemed  dead  within  me.  I  was  embittered  by 
disappointments,  furious  at  the  thought  of  how  I  had 
been  cheated. 

"  One  day,  in  Philadelphia,  I  met  young  Dale.  He 
was  at  the  North  on  his  wedding-trip.  I  was  gaunt 
and  shabby,  and  he  tossed  a  dollar  to  me  in  passing 


388  Dr.  Dale 

me  on  the  street.  Something  snapped  in  my  brain. 
When  I  knew  where  I  was,  I  was  struggling  with  four 
policemen  who  held  me  away  from  the  man  I  had 
struck  down.  Dale  was  ten  weeks  in  hospital.  The 
doctors  said  I  had  disfigured  him  for  life. 

"  I  was  horrified  at  what  I  had  done.  Not  on  Dale's 
account,  but  because  I  recognised  in  it  the  murder- 
ous frenzy  that  had  caused  my  mother's  death.  Since 
then  I  have  fought  my  temper  as  no  man  ever  fought 
visible  adversary. 

"  Things  went  from  bad  to  worse.  I  drifted  from 
New  York  to  Denver,  from  Minnesota  to  Alabama. 
Everything  I  touched  was  doomed  to  failure.  I 
worked  my  way  to  Europe  on  a  cattle-ship,  meaning 
to  cultivate  my  voice  abroad  and  to  earn  a  living  on 
the  opera  stage.  I  had  had  a  fair  education  in  vocal 
and  instrumental  music.  Dr.  Dale  used  to  make  me 
sing  for  him  until  my  throat  burned,  when  the  gout 
held  him  prisoner. 

"  A  cold,  caught  at  sea,  proved  obstinate,  and 
ruined  my  musical  hopes  for  the  time.  I  came  back 
to  America  poorer  than  I  went. 

"  I  heard  of  the  mines  in  the  Cumberland  Moun- 
tains as  a  likely  opening  for  a  physician,  and  went 
there.  The  day  of  my  arrival  in  the  mining  village 
of  Crockett,  Tennessee,  there  was  an  accident  in  the 
largest  mine.  I  was  badly  hurt.  (Ask  John  to  tell 
you  about  it  some  day.) 

"  There  was  no  hospital  there,  and  but  one  doctor, 
and  he  a  quack.  I  could  not  be  removed  to  the 
nearest  town.  One  guileless  mountaineer  suggested 
that  '  they  'd  better  send  a  load  of  buckshot  through 
the  stranger's  head  and  put  him  out  of  his  misery.' 
The  merciful  motion  might  have  been  carried  through 
if  a  woman  had  not  interfered,  and,  after  scolding  the 
men  for  their  inhumanity,  begged  them  to  take  me  to 
her  mother's  house. 


A  Sheaf  of  Memories      389 

"  I  fainted  from  pain  on  the  way,  and  then  sank 
into  delirium  that  lasted  a  month.  When  I  came  to 
myself,  I  was  lying  on  a  corn  husk  mattress  in  a 
lean-to  opening  into  a  farmhouse.  The  lean-to  was 
newly  built,  for  the  fresh  pine  boards  reeked  with 
turpentine  in  the  sun.  They  reeked,  and  they  warped, 
leaving  cracks  through  which  I  could  see  sky  and 
trees.  The  odour  of  resinous  woods  always  recalls 
that  place  and  time  for  me. 

"  You  may  recollect  my  rudeness  when  we  visited 
the  moat  Ralph  Folger  had  built  to  receive  the  over- 
flow from  the  reopened  well,  and  where  the  smell  of 
the  pine  boards  was  heavy  in  the  air?  For  the  mo- 
ment I  was  not  far  from  madness.  For  that  stage  of 
my  miserable  past  had  effectually  barred  me  from 
a  future  I  might  have  had,  —  a  future  which,  even 
then,  I  longed  for  above  all  else,  —  a  future  with 
you  ! 

"The  cabin  belonged  to  an  old  woman  named 
Sperry.  She  was  bedridden,  and  had  two  daughters. 
The  elder,  a  shrewish,  domineering  creature,  was  mar- 
ried and  lived  about  a  mile  farther  up  the  mountain. 
The  unmarried  daughter,  Mamie  Sperry,  had  saved  my 
life.  She  had  nursed  me  through  my  long  delirium, 
spending  most  of  her  scanty  hoard  of  money  to  buy 
me  comforts  and  medicines.  I  lay  there,  helpless, 
for  nearly  three  months. 

"  It  was  the  nearest  approach  to  happiness  I  had 
ever  known,  —  negative  happiness,  but  I  had  had  no 
taste  of  any  other.  Despite  the  physical  anguish, 
those  were  ideal  months.  Mamie  Sperry's  devotion 
to  her  mother,  her  care  of  me,  the  peaceful  life  led 
by  them  in  the  humble  mountain  cottage,  appealed  to 
me  as  they  could  appeal  to  no  one  but  a  vagrant  who 
had  never  known  home  and  domestic  affections. 

"  One  day,  as  I  was  growing  better,  something 
happened  to  change  it  all.  I  had  been  asleep,  and 


390  Dr.   Dale 

was  awakened  by  the  voice  of  the  viragoish  married 
sister  in  the  adjoining  room.  She  was  scolding 
Mamie,  whose  sobs  were  audible  through  the  thin 
partition. 

"  '  Your  reputation  's  ruined  ! '  I  heard  the  married 
woman  say.  '  You  Ve  made  a  fool  of  yourself  by 
bringing  him  here  and  nursing  him.  Everybody's 
talking  about  it,  and  folks  won't  believe  anything  but 
the  worst  sort  of  things  about  you.  You  've  dis- 
graced yourself  and  your  family.' 

"  Then  Mamie  choked  back  her  sobs  and  said, '  I 
love  him  so  I  just  could  n't  help  it !  ' 

"  I  did  n't  hear  anything  more,  for  by  now  I  was 
wide-awake,  and  buried  my  head  in  the  pillows  to  shut 
out  their  voices. 

"  I  lay  awake  all  that  night.  In  my  weakness  I 
was  ready  to  believe  that  Mamie  had  innocently 
endangered  her  good  name  by  her  care  of  me.  I 
had  brought  shame  upon  the  only  person  who  had 
ever  befriended  me.  There  was  but  one  means  of 
reparation  in  my  power.  After  all,  it  mattered  little 
what  became  of  so  useless,  so  ill-starred  a  being  as 
myself. 

"  The  next  day  a  Methodist  circuit-rider  was  sent 
for  and  made  us  man  and  wife." 

Dale  laid  down  his  pen,  and  stretched  out  his  right 
arm.  It  was  cramped  by  long  and  rapid  writing.  A 
little  heap  of  written  sheets  lay  in  the  middle  of  the 
table.  The  methodical  pile  of  blank  pages  before 
him  gleamed  whitely  in  the  lamp-glare. 

The  wick  sputtered  occasionally.  He  lifted  the 
lamp  to  make  sure  there  was  oil  enough  to  last  until 
the  task  was  done.  From  the  cell  below  rose  inter- 
mittingly  the  sound  of  drunken  weeping.  The  noise 
seemed  to  bring  disagreeable  associations  to  the 
writer.  He  could  not  fix  his  mind  upon  his  work. 
He  looked  about  the  room.  Just  within  the  radius 


A  Sheaf  of  Memories       391 

of  the  lamp-light  he  could  make  out  the  scrawl  of 
the  gallows-tree  and  its  fruit.  From  memory  he 
repeated  aloud  the  satiric  legend  :  " My  Family  Tree" 
The  noise  from  the  basement  ceased.  Again  Dale 
took  up  the  pen  and  pulled  the  blank  paper  nearer 
to  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

OBITER   DICTA 

"  So  this  is  the  end !     With  my  feet  on  the  strand, 
I  glance  back  o'er  the  past  barred  with  shadow  and  light, 
A  heap  of  dead  rose-leaves,  —  a  mark  in  the  sand,  — 
And  day  shall  but  close  as  it  opened  —  in  night. 
Then  why  should  I  weep  for  what  some  hold  so  dear  ? 
I  have  lived  without  hope.     I  can  die  without  fear." 

were  in  a  strange  predicament," 
wrote  Dale.  "  Mamie  could  not  leave 
her  mother.  I  could  find  no  means 
of  livelihood  in  Crockett.  I  stayed 
there  until  I  got  back  my  strength. 
Then  the  old  roving  life  began  again.  When  I  had 
work  I  sent  my  wife  two-thirds  of  all  I  earned.  I 
have  done  this  ever  since  I  parted  from  her,  three 
years  and  a  half  ago. 

"  News  drifted  to  me  of  the  flourishing  oil-wells 
in  Pitvale.  I  was  then  in  Kansas,  and  worked  my 
way  East.  I  arrived  here  during  the  terrible  flood 
caused  by  the  breaking  of  the  Jaynesville  dam.  You 
know  all  about  what  followed. 

"  I  yielded  to  your  brother's  and  Ralph  Folger's 
entreaties  that  I  would  settle  here.  There  was  an 
excellent  chance  for  a  doctor  who  knew  his  business. 
My  coming  to  this  place  was  the  turning-point  of  my 
fortunes.  I  prospered  as  fully  as  I  had  heretofore 
failed.  I  saw  daylight  ahead  of  me  at  last.  At  the 
end  of  the  first  twelvemonth  I  wrote  to  my  wife, 
asking  her  to  join  me  in  Pitvale.  She  answered  that 
her  mother  was  more  helpless  than  ever,  and  there 
was  nobody  to  take  care  of  her  if  she  left  her.  They 


Obiter  Dicta  393 

had  a  comfortable  house  in  the  village  now,  thanks 
to  me,  she  said,  and  she  must  stay  where  she 
was. 

"  I  never  pretended  to  love  my  wife.  But  I  tried 
to  deal  honourably  with  her.  I  was  ready  to  own  her 
before  my  new  world,  and  to  install  her  in  a  home  of 
her  own.  We  corresponded  for  two  years  with 
tolerable  regularity.  Her  letters  were  affectionate 

—  even  grateful  —  for  some  months  after  she  wrote 
that  she  must  stay  with  her  mother  as  long  as  the 
invalid  needed   her.     A  gradual  change    crept   into 
them.     I  gathered  from  unguarded  sentences  that  her 
sister  was  at  her  old  trade  of  mischief-making,  and  in 
a  village  there  was  bound  to  be  gossip.     Mamie  was 
made  to  believe  that  I  had  practically  deserted  her, 
that  in  my  prosperity,  of  which  she  had  boasted  to 
her  sister,  I   despised  my  country-bred  wife.     Each 
letter   was    more  urgent   than  those    that  had  gone 
before,  in  requests,  then  demands,  for  money.     Each 
had  more  complaints  of  her  hard  lot  in  being  a  mar- 
ried woman,  yet  no  wife,  and  each  had  less  of  the  old- 
time  affection.      At  length  she  never  wrote  except  to 
ask  for,  or  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  money. 

"  By  and  by  I  suspected  what  was  confirmed  by 
a  spiteful  letter  from  her  sister,  after  a  quarrel  be- 
tween the  two ;  namely,  that  another  man  was  mixed 
up  in  the  matter.  A  man  of  her  own  rank  was  very 
attentive  to  Mamie,  the  sister  said,  and  that  there  was 
talk  of  a  divorce.  The  spiteful  letter  warned  me  that 
wilful  desertion  for  a  period  exceeding  two  years  was 
valid  cause  in  Tennessee  for  absolute  divorce.  If  I 
cared  to  keep  my  wife,  I  would  better  come  and  look 
after  her.  I  had  been  away  from  her  then  three 
years. 

"  About  two  months  after  the  receipt  of  this  letter 

—  to  which  I  paid  no  attention  —  I  had  one  from  my 
wife,   that  indicated  a  revival   of  her    former    love. 


394  Dr.  Dale 

There  were  no  reproaches  and  no  demands.  She 
spoke  regretfully  of  our  continued  separation,  hope- 
fully of  what  the  future  might  have  in  store,  apprecia- 
tively of  what  she  called  my  '  great  goodness '  to 
her  mother  and  herself.  I  did  n't  understand  it  then. 
I  don't  now.  It  may  have  been  written  to  quiet  the 
suspicions  raised  by  her  sister's  letter,  of  which  she 
may  have  learned.  It  may  have  been  one  of  the 
causeless  impulses  that  lead  women  to  most  of  their 
troubles. 

"  I  read  the  letter.  It  recalled  the  memory  of  her 
tender  nursing  ;  her  fondness  for  me  ;  my  utter 
friendlessness  when  she  took  me  —  a  broken  log  — 
into  her  mother's  house.  I  burned  the  letter,  as  I  do 
nearly  all  I  receive,  and  sat  before  my  office-fire 
watching  the  gray  tinder  change  to  ashes,  when  John 
came  in.  He  had  been  to  New  York  to  meet  you. 
He  told  me  of  your  expected  visit  to  him. 

"That  meant  nothing  to  me  that  night.  Women 
were  all  alike,  I  thought,  in  disgust.  All  were  mer- 
cenary ;  all  were  fickle.  I  had  forgotten  that  you 
were  coming,  until  —  until  the  bitter  January  morning 
when  I  stopped  —  frozen,  tired,  discouraged  —  at  the 
door  of  your  parlour,  and  looked  in  !  I  stood  upon 
the  threshold  of  a  new  world. 

"  The  temptation  was  upon  me.  For  your  sweet 
sake  I  was  minded  to  flee  from  it.  Yet,  with  open 
eyes  and  fully  aware  of  the  peril  of  my  position,  I 
stayed  near  you.  Little  sunshine  had  fallen  into 
my  life.  I  had  not  the  courage  to  turn  from  it  and 
deliberately  choose  darkness,  now  that  at  last  it 
flooded  my  very  soul.  So  I  lived  on  —  without 
looking  forward  —  in  a  Fool's  Paradise. 

"Do  you  recollect  the  telegram  for  me,  which 
Mrs.  Bowersox  accused  Jeff  of  destroying?  A  sec- 
ond despatch  came  next  day.  I  supposed  it  was  a 
replica  of  the  first.  It  read : 


Obiter  Dicta  395 

"  'Mamie  dead.  Very  sudden.  Send  money  for 
funeral.  Telegraphed  yesterday. ' 

"  It  was  signed  by  Mamie's  sister. 

"  It  is  trite  to  speak  of  the  condemned  man  who 
is  reprieved  at  the  foot  of  the  gallows;  of  the  man 
who  has  grown  old  in  prison,  to  whom  Freedom  sud- 
denly stretches  forth  her  arms. 

"Yes!  these  are  trite  similes,  and  all  too  weak  to 
express  what  I  felt  when  I  read  that  I  was  free. 
Free  to  live  as  other  men  live;  to  love  as  others 
love ;  to  win  for  my  own  the  woman  without  whom 
life  were  an  idle  mockery.  I  felt  no  grief  for  the 
dead.  Only  a  passing  regret  for  what  she  used  to 
be.  I  had  done  my  duty  to  her.  I  had  never  loved 
her.  She  had  ceased  to  love  me. 

"That  very  night  I  told  you  I  loved  you.  That 
night  you  changed  this  dreary  old  world  into  heaven 
for  me  by  giving  me  love  for  love. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  can  guess  for  a  moment  what 
that  meant  for  me?  To  you  it  was  the  mere  accep- 
tance of  the  man  who  had  won  your  love.  To  me 
—  to  me  —  it  was  all  the  difference  between  life 
and  annihilation,  between  noonday  and  midnight.  I 
had  been  lonely  and  unhappy  from  the  earliest  hour 
of  my  recollection.  To  me  you  were  my  youth,  my 
better  nature,  my  love,  my  good  angel,  —  life  from 
the  dead ! 

"  Myrtle !  there  is  no  one  on  this  broad  earth  — 
or  in  heaven  above,  like  you ! " 

The  man  had  written  fast,  without  pausing.  He 
had  reached  the  point  where  the  pen  replaces  the 
tongue  as  exponent  of  the  brain. 

He  raised  his  head  and  listened.  The  tramp  of 
Bat  Sydney's  feet  sounded  along  the  corridor.  He 
passed  Dr.  Dale's  door,  and  went  down  the  narrow 
stairs  to  the  cells,  to  be  met  by  a  howl  of  entreaty 
from  "  Drunken  Dick ! " 


396  Dr.  Dale 

The  charm  was  broken.  Dale  glanced  over  the 
last  dozen  lines  he  had  penned.  Then  he  leaned 
back  and  laughed  aloud,  —  laughed  until  the  room 
rang;  the  bitter,  mirthless  laughter  of  a  soul  in 
pain. 

"To  think  I  wrote  that  rot!"  he  muttered,  run- 
ning the  ink-laden  pen  through  the  love-words  until 
they  were  illegible.  "//  the  man  who  has  striven 
for  years  never  to  lose  control  of  himself !  I !  a 
self-confessed  murderer!  I  'm  writing  rhapsodies  of 
love  to  the  woman  whose  beautiful  life  is  wrecked 
by  my  crime ! " 

Again  the  wild,  meaningless  laughter  burst  forth. 
When  it  died  away  the  room  seemed  terribly  still. 

"My  nerves  are  getting  away  with  me!"  mur- 
mured Dale.  "Three  months  ago  I'd  have  sworn 
I  had  none ! " 

He  bent  over  the  manuscript  once  more. 

"You  know  how  the  time  passed  up  to  the  day 
when  you  directed  the  strange  woman  to  my  office. 
Whatever  fate  I  may  meet  hereafter,  that  time  was 
an  Eden  to  me  that  made  up  for  all  that  went  before 
and  came  after  it. 

"I  had  sent  the  money  to  Mamie's  sister  —  a  lib- 
eral sum.  I  wrote  three  lines  with  it.  I  said,  '  I 
am  sorry  to  hear  of  your  loss.  When  you  are  some- 
what at  leisure,  write  particulars.  First  telegram 
was  not  received. '  " 

I  had  had  no  particulars.  That  did  not  surprise 
me.  My  sister-in-law  and  I  were  never  on  friendly 
terms. 

"I  was  writing  at  my  desk  on  the  morning  of 
March  fourteenth,  when  the  office-door  opened  and 
Mamie  —  my  wife  —  came  in.  For  a  moment  I 
thought  my  imagination  had  tricked  me  into  a  ter- 
rible delusion.  She  soon  undeceived  me.  Her 
mother  was  dead.  She  had  sent  the  first  telegram 


Obiter  Dicta  397 

in  her  own  name.  Receiving  no  reply  in  twenty- 
four  hours,  her  sister  became  impatient  and  tele- 
graphed on  her  own  responsibility.  Lest  I  might 
not  believe  that  the  first  despatch  was  sent  in  due 
form,  Mamie  had  brought  a  copy.  It  ran  thus :  — 

"  Mama  died  to-day.  Very  sudden.  Send  money 
for  expenses.'* 

"  I  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  telegraph-operator  had 
mistaken  '  Mama  '  for  '  Mamie. '  The  blunder  was 
natural  —  and  fatal ! 

"As  soon  as  the  funeral  was  over,  Mamie  had 
made  her  preparations  to  come  to  me.  She  meant 
to  take  me  by  surprise.  Her  sister  had  advised 
this,  as  she  was  positive  I  was  leading  a  double  life. 
My  wife  was  fatigued  by  the  journey,  confused  and 
suspicious.  She  asked  innumerable  questions  as  to 
my  home,  my  associates,  my  income,  my  plans. 
My  answers  did  not  satisfy  her.  She  saw  that  I 
was  shocked  by  her  coming.  I  did  not  affect  to  be 
glad  to  see  her.  She  ended  her  catechism  by  a  fit 
of  hysterics. 

"  I  paid  scant  heed  to  it  all.  My  brain  was  afire. 
Finally  a  plan  shaped  itself  in  my  mind  for  immedi- 
ate action,  at  least.  She  was  mercenary.  That  I 
knew  to  my  cost.  She  loved  me  no  longer.  I 
would  induce  her  to  divorce  me,  promising  her 
handsome  alimony.  I  was  rich.  I  would  make  her 
rich.  In  the  meantime  —  until  I  had  persuaded  and 
bribed  her  to  return  to  Crockett  —  I  would  hide  her 
somewhere  under  an  assumed  name;  somewhere 
out-of-town,  where  she  would  not  be  likely  to  meet 
acquaintances  of  mine. 

"I  resolved  to  take  her  to  the  Eddy  farmhouse. 
The  only  downright  lie  J  told  her  was  that  I  was  a 
boarder  there.  I  counted  upon  making  that  straight 
by  a  private  talk  with  Mrs.  Eddy,  who  considers 


398  Dr.  Dale 

herself  under  obligations  to  me.  So,  when  Mamie 
was  rested  and  had  eaten  her  luncheon,  and  asked 
me  to  take  her  home,  I  consented.  She  had  a  heavy 
carpet-bag,  which  I  told  her  to  leave.  I  would 
hire  a  man  to  take  it  out  to  her  that  evening.  I 
fully  intended  to  do  this.  I  intended,  too,  to  ex- 
plain to  her,  on  the  way,  how  impossible  it  was  for 
me  to  receive  her  as  my  wife,  and  to  gain  her  con- 
sent to  the  divorce.  That  being  done,  I  would  go 
to  you,  confess  all,  and  throw  myself  on  your 
mercy. 

"  I  had  not  calculated  upon  the  strength  of  the 
poison  her  sister  had  infused  into  Mamie's  mind. 
She  had  grown  to  look  upon  me  as  a  monster,  whose 
one  aim  in  life  was  to  slight  and  injure  her.  At  the 
approach  to  the  question  of  the  divorce,  with  which, 
I  reminded  her,  she  had  threatened  me  in  the  first 
place,  she  flared  up  and  declared  I  was  a  brute, 
then  broke  into  a  torrent  of  hysterical  tears.  I 
had  quieted  her  somewhat  by  the  time  we  met  Mr. 
Welsh,  but  her  eyes  were  wet  and  inflamed,  and  I 
could  see  him  stare  inquisitively  at  her.  Knowing 
him  as  I  do,  I  wonder  he  did  not  stop  us  and  ask 
her  what  was  the  matter. 

"  We  walked  on  to  the  North  Bridge  and  over  it. 
I  had,  as  I  said  at  the  inquest,  pointed  out  the 
chimneys  of  the  Eddys'  house,  across  the  meadows, 
before  we  were  on  the  Bridge.  The  path  runs  for 
some  distance  parallel  with  the  other  side  of  the 
creek.  We  had  gone  on  in  silence  for  a  while,  and 
were  in  the  clump  of  willows  designated  by  the 
coroner  as  the  scene  of  the  murder,  when  Mamie 
stopped  abruptly. 

" '  Egbert  Dale ! '  she  said,  facing  me  angrily, 
'  you  're  lying  to  me,  and  you  know  it!  You  don't 
live  out  there  at  all !  What  should  a  doctor  do  liv- 
ing so  far  from  his  office?  You  're  trying  to  fool 


Obiter  Dicta  399 

me,  and  you  can't  do  it.  You  want  to  hide  me  away 
where  your  fine  friends  won't  see  me.  I  sha  'nt 
budge  one  step  further.  I  'm  going  straight  back 
and  shout  out  to  everybody  I  meet  that  I  'm  your 
wife,  and  that  you  deserted  me.  Sis  said  there  was 
another  woman.  She  was  right.  I  know  who  it  is, 
too.  It's  the  woman  I  saw  this  morning;  the  one 
that  came  to  your  office-door  on  horseback  this 
evening.  I  saw  how  she  looked  at  you!  I  knew 
what  she  was  the  minute  I  set  eyes  on  her  to-day. 
I  saw  what  kind  of  company  she  keeps,  too.  She  's 
no  better  than  she  should  be —  ' 

"  And  then  I  killed  her. 

"  I  meant  to  do  it  from  the  instant  she  spoke  of 
you.  In  those  few  seconds  I  planned  it  all.  She 
had  no  right  to  disgrace  me  and  to  break  your  heart. 
And  she  should  not !  I  had  believed  her  dead,  and 
had  dared  to  be  happy.  She  had  come  back  to  ruin 
me,  to  part  me  from  you.  I  would  strike  her  out 
of  my  path  as  I  would  any  other  hurtful  creature 
that  menaced  your  happiness.  Would  I  hesitate 
to  lop  off  my  hand  if  it  were  caught  in  the  gear- 
ing of  a  wheel  that  was  drawing  me  on  to  certain 
death  ? 

"My  walking-stick  is  heavy.  The  handle  is 
loaded  with  lead.  I  knew  just  where  to  strike. 

"  In  my  hour  of  detection  and  confession,  I  swear 
that  I  am  not  sorry  I  did  it.  I  would  do  it  again  in 
the  same  circumstances. 

"  I  had  married  her  to  save  her  good  name  and  to 
repay  her  for  her  care  of  me.  I  had  paid  back  the 
debt  a  hundred  times.  I  had  supported  her  whole 
family  in  luxury.  She  repaid  me  by  trying  to  part 
me  from  the  only  woman  I  ever  loved.  She  brought 
her  fate  upon  herself. 

"  She  fell  into  the  water,  clutching  convulsively 
at  the  willows  as  she  toppled  off  the  bank.  When 


400  Dr.  Dale 

she  struck  the  water,  she  bleated  like  a  sheep,  and 
died.  The  current  caught  at  her  and  whirled  her 
away. 

"  I  had  no  further  thought  of  her.  Wrought  up, 
as  I  was,  to  the  extreme  of  passion,  my  mind  was 
clear.  I  must  establish  an  alibi.  It  was  half-past 
six  o'clock,  and  I  was  three  miles  from  home.  The 
evening  was  murky,  and  I  chose  unfrequented  alleys 
and  back  roads.  I  ran  as  I  never  ran  before.  I 
reached  the  Bowersox  house  at  five  minutes  of  seven. 
How  I  did  it  I  don't  know,  for  the  way  was  rough, 
and  I  was  sadly  out  of  training.  But  I  was  running 
for  my  life  and  our  happiness. 

"  If  Mrs.  Bowersox  had  kept  her  presence  of  mind 
under  Kruger's  examination,  she  could  have  proved 
a  satisfactory  alibi  by  simply  telling  the  truth.  If 
Kruger  had  known  more  of  law  and  disliked  me  less, 
I  should  not  have  been  committed  to  jail.  You  and 
John  called  him  'Dogberry,'  in  talking  over  the 
trial.  I  thought  of  Dogberry  all  the  while  it  was 
going  on.  I  thought  of  what  did  not  occur  to 
either  of  you,  — how  Shakespeare's  awkward,  pom- 
pous fool  brought  the  wrong-doers  to  justice  by 
his  obstinate  foolishness.  Had  Kruger  tracked  me, 
step  by  step,  he  could  not  have  hit  the  truth  more 
directly. 

"That  night,  after  Jeff's  wrist  was  dressed,  I  went 
out-of-doors  and  wandered  away  by  myself  along 
country  lanes,  straying  at  last  without  noticing 
where  I  was,  to  the  neighbourhood  of  the  embank- 
ment near  the  Ruth  well.  I  went  over  the  whole 
tragedy,  as  if  the  principal  actor  were  another 
man.  I  could  feel  no  remorse  then.  I  feel  none 
now. 

"  I  once  read  Eugene  Aram  —  Hood's  poem,  not 
Bulwer's  novel.  I  used  to  wonder  how  the  poet 
could  define  a  murderer's  sensations  so  accurately. 


Obiter  Dicta  401 

In  my  meditations  that  night,  I  felt  contempt  for 
Hood's  knowledge  of  human  nature.  My  sensation 
was  one  of  utter  relief.  In  an  effort  at  self-torture 
I  called  up  the  incidents  of  the  killing.  All  I  could 
bring  back  clearly  to  my  mind  was  that  sheep-like 
bleat.  It  was  a  reflex  action  of  the  throat  muscles 
and  vocal  cords. 

"  I  weighed  the  case  —  myself  the  prisoner  and  the 
judge  —  and  stood  acquitted. 

"  I  was  out  in  the  electric  storm,  scarcely  hearing 
it,  or  the  subsequent  explosion  and  the  cannonading. 
I  was  lying  on  the  ground  under  a  thicket  of  cedars, 
when  Folger  came  along. 

"You  know  the  rest.  All  except  one  thing. 
When  I  saw  Folger' s  life  in  danger  I  tried  to  save 
it,  not  so  much  for  his  sake,  as  to  wipe  out  the  sin 
of  taking  one  human  life  by  saving  another.  The 
same  feeling  moved  me  to  stand  between  Kruger 
and  the  mob.  If  I  have  destroyed  one  life  I  have 
saved  many  in  my  time.  That  may  go  for  nothing 
in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  It  atones,  in  my  eyes,  for 
that  particular  crime. 

"  After  you  came  to  me  this  afternoon  my  troubles 
seemed  over.  I  saw  the  future  with  your  dear  eyes. 
Just  after  you  left  Welsh  called  on  me.  He  wished, 
he  said,  to  warn  me  of  my  fate.  Moved  by  a  dis- 
torted sense  of  fairness,  I  suppose.  Kate  Meagley 
somehow  got  hold  of  the  despatch  Mamie  sent  to 
me,  telling  of  her  mother's  death.  It  was  signed 
in  her  provincial  fashion,  'Mrs.  Dale,'  and  dated 
'  Crockett,  Tennessee. '  The  day  of  the  inquest  the 
Meagley  woman  and  Welsh  put  their  heads  together 
over  it.  Both  hate  me.  The  signature  breathed  of 
scandal.  They  were  on  the  track  of  a  mystery. 
Welsh  went  out  to  Crockett  and  made  inquiries. 
He  learned  everything  pertaining  to  the  marriage, 
and  that  my  wife  had  gone  East  to  join  me.  He 

26 


402  Dr.  Dale 

brought  Anastasia  Collett,  the  married  sister,  back 
with  him  to  witness  against  me.  She  will  gladly 
swear  my  life  away,  by  supplying  the  missing  link 
in  the  chain  of  evidence  —  the  motive  for  the  deed. 
Without  that  the  prosecution  would  have  no  case. 
Now,  there  is  enough  circumstantial  evidence  to 
hang  almost  any  man. 

"I  am  respected,  here  in  Pitvale,  and  if  my  life 
were  the  only  thing  at  stake,  I  would  abide  the  issue 
and  fight  to  the  last,  trusting  to  my  past  reputation, 
my  almost  perfect  alibi,  and  to  Hendrickson's  clev- 
erness, to  clear  me.  But  conviction  is  the  very 
least  thing  to  be  considered. 

"I  cannot  —  I  will  not  live  to  see  the  love-look  in 
your  eyes  change  to  horror.  I  will  not  have  the 
Meagley  woman  (who,  by  some  underhand  means, 
has  learned  of  our  engagement)  hold  you  up  to  the 
scorn  of  her  sister-gossips,  as  the  dupe  of  an  adven- 
turer and  wife-murderer. 

"  Heart  of  my  heart !  what  would  bare  life  be 
worth  to  me,  knowing  you  were  put  to  shame  and 
ridicule  because  of  me?  How  could  I  live  on,  with 
the  daily  memory  of  all  I  have  lost  in  losing  you? 
Think  of  this,  and  let  it  soften  your  judgment  of 
what  I  am  about  to  do.  GOD  forbid  that  I  should 
crawl  to  your  feet  at  this  time,  and  whine  for  pity 
or  for  sympathy!  Yet  try  to  remember  that  it  is 
partly  —  nay,  wholly  —  for  your  sake  that  I  take  the 
law  into  my  own  hands.  To  die  on  the  scaffold  for 
killing  a  woman  who  wrecked  my  career,  would  be 
degrading.  To  die  of  my  own  free  will,  to  spare 
you  humiliation,  will  be  very  sweet. 

"The  thought  of  death,  by  itself,  has  no  terrors 
for  me.  I  have  watched  by  hundreds  of  death-beds, 
and  one  fact  I  have  always  noted :  while  some 
have  longed  to  die,  and  while  others  have  shrunk 
back  in  horror  from  the  thought  of  death,  yet  when 


Obiter  Dicta  403 

it  actually  laid  its  hand  upon  them,  the  same  look 
came  to  the  faces  of  all.  A  look  of  utter  peace,  of 
content,  of  rest.  No  more  horror,  no  more  weari- 
ness, no  shrinking  from  an  enemy.  Feverish  long- 
ing for  and  glad  hope  of  deliverance  were  supplanted 
by  that  ineffable  peace.  On  some  faces  —  oftenest 
on  the  faces  of  those  whose  earthly  reward  had  been 
least  —  lingered  a  smile, — the  smile  of  a  tired, 
happy  child. 

"  Now,  the  Power  that  brings  that  look  to  the  face 
of  saint  and  sinner  alike,  is  surely  not  to  be  dreaded, 
but  rather  to  be  met  as  a  tender  friend,  a  loving 
deliverer. 

"What  lies  beyond  the  gates  of  death,  I  do  not 
know.  If  it  were  terrible,  if  it  were  an  unwelcome 
change  from  this  life,  would  the  dead  face  of  every 
one  whose  spirit  is  a  new-comer  in  that  Land  wear 
the  smile  of  perfect  peace?  Would  the  world-weary, 
harassed,  sinning  man  smile  as  childhood  smiles  on 
earth  ? 

"This  is  not  orthodox.  I  am  not  a  religious  man. 
If  I  were,  I  should  be  comforting  you  at  this  mo- 
ment with  the  sweet  assurance  that  your  white  soul 
and  that  of  the  murderer  in  heart  and  in  act,  who 
has  won  your  love  here,  will  meet  and  be  as  one, 
some  day,  beyond  the  stars. 

"That  would  be  a  lie!  that  specious  promise 
which  I  have  heard  well-meaning  sympathisers  offer 
to  those  who  weep  over  their  dead.  I  loved  you.  I 
won  you.  I  lost  you.  That  was  on  earth.  What 
cause  have  I  for  hope  that  in  a  state  where  the 
secrets  of  all  hearts  will  be  made  known,  where 
sin  and  purity  will  be  even  farther  apart  than 
they  are  here,  I  shall  be  able  to  claim  you  as  my 
own? 

"No,  dear  heart!  we  have  met  and  have  parted 
for  the  last  time.  For  the  last  time  I  have  looked 


404  Dr.  Dale 

into  your  eyes,  have  felt  your  dear  form  in  my  arms, 
the  pressure  of  your  arms  about  my  neck.  For  the 
last  time  —  in  this,  or  any  other  world  —  I  have 
kissed  you  and  heard  you  say,  '  I  love  you ! '  That 
has  passed  and  is  gone. 

"There  is  a  future  life.  Who  can  doubt  it?  A 
world  that  sets  this  world  right.  But  none  where 
you  and  I  can  meet  on  the  same  plane;  none  where 
I  can  take  your  hands  in  mine,  and  say,  '  You 
are  mine  again,  at  last !  Nothing  can  part  us 
now! ' 

"  I  have  a  notion  that  love  (as  mortals  know  it)  is 
of  this  world  alone,  to  use  or  to  abuse  as  we  see  fit. 
In  the  world  to  come  '  there  is  neither  marrying  nor 
giving  in  marriage. ' 

"  'The  flower  that  once  has  bloomed,  forever  dies.' 

"  Personally,  I  am  too  much  of  a  man  to  look 
forward  with  keen  interest  to  an  ethereal  life  out  of 
the  body.  Nor  do  I  concern  myself  greatly  as  to 
the  future.  You  were  my  future,  —  my  heaven, 
Myrtle!  All  I  asked  for  from  GOD  or  man.  I 
staked  all  on  you.  I  have  lost  you ! 

"  I  can  imagine  how  the  Reverend  Cotton  Mather 
Welsh  —  or  even  dear  old  John  —  would  gasp  at  this 
somewhat  eccentric  theology.  But  you  will  under- 
stand. You  always  understand. 

"  If  a  year  ago  I  had  found  myself  in  my  present 
evil  case,  I  should  have  escaped  (escape  would  be 
ridiculously  easy  in  this  comic  opera  jail,  in  this 
town  of  true  friends,  eager  to  help  me),  and  started 
life  afresh  somewhere  else.  Now  it  is  not  worth 
while.  You  would  not  be  with  me.  Until  I  met 
you  I  had  no  desire  to  make  the  best  of  all  that  is 
in  me.  I  had  looked  on  life  as  something  to  be  got 
through  with  as  best  one  could.  Not  because  it  was 
worth  doing,  but  because  it  was  inevitable.  Hope 


Obiter  Dicta  405 

and  I  had  not  then  met.  Death  I  looked  upon  as  a 
friend  to  be  greeted  with  calmness,  not  with  fear. 

"  It  was  not  such  a  bad  philosophy.  It  kept  my 
head  above  water  for  many  years.  At  sight  of  you 
I  entered  fairyland, —  Arcady.  Yet  why  should  men 
sneer  at  Arcadian  dreams?  Castles  in  the  air  are 
far  pleasanter  than  dungeons  in  the  same  locality, 
and  quite  as  profitable. 

"  I  have  written  on  —  and  on  —  and  on,  as  fast  as 
thought  and  pen  can  fly.  Much  that  I  have  written 
is  nonsense,  I  fear.  This  is  the  last  time  I  shall 
ever  address  you,  and  I  dread  to  say  '  Good-by. ' 

"When  I  write  that,  I  cut  the  last  strand  of  the 
straining  cord  that  binds  me  to  life  —  to  happiness 
—  to  you. 

"I  won't  weary  you  with  more  sentimentality. 
You  will  forgive  me  for  taking  my  life.  In  this 
way  alone,  can  I  silence  Welsh,  Anastasia  Collett, 
and  the  others.  The  prosecution  falls  to  the  ground 
when  there  is  no  accused  to  meet  it.  Even  Welsh's 
conscience  and  Anastasia's  malevolence  will  not 
move  them  to  testify  against  a  dead  man.  They 
will  not  dare  to  do  it  in  Pitvale. 

"  It  is  late  —  past  eleven  —  more  than  five  hours 
since  I  saw  you  —  and  I  am  very  tired.  I  —  " 

"  Workin'  overtime  to-night,  ain't  you,  doctor?" 

Dale  had  not  heard  the  door  open.  The  jailer's 
broad  face  beamed  at  him  over  the  top  of  the  lamp. 

"Ah,  Sydney!  Good-evening ! "  he  said  pleas- 
antly. "  How  's  the  sore  throat  ?  " 

"Better,  I  guess.  Wife  said  you'd  be  up  late, 
and  I  stayed  out,  on  a-purpose.  Anything  you  'd 
like  to  have  before  I  turn  in  ? " 

"  I  've  been  getting  up  a  report  I  'd  like  very  much 
to  have  put  into  Mr.  Bell's  hands  to-night.  But  as 
it 's  late,  perhaps  it  would  trouble  you  —  " 

"Not  a  bit,  doctor.     I  '11  call  in  for  it  in  half  an 


406  Dr.  Dale 

hour.  I  'm  a  regular  owl,  you  know,  and  Mr.  Bell 
keeps  late  hours,  too.  Sarah  tells  me  you  ain't 
well." 

"  Only  a  splitting  headache.  I  'm  going  to  knock 
it  out  with  a  stiff  dose  of  antipyrin,  as  soon  as  this 
is  done.  Thank  you,  old  man,  for  obliging  me. 
Look  in  again  in  half  an  hour." 

Sydney  withdrew,  and  Dale  opened  the  medicine- 
chest.  He  uncorked  the  antipyrin  phial  and  shook 
several  cylindrical  pellets  into  his  hollowed  palm. 
With  a  quick,  unfaltering  motion  of  the  hand,  he 
tossed  them  into  his  mouth  and  took  a  swallow  of 
water  from  a  glass  Mrs.  Sydney  had  left  on  the 
table. 

Then  he  took  half-a-dozen  turns  up  and  down  the 
room.  At  the  piano  he  paused,  sat  down,  and 
half  unconsciously  played  the  opening  bars  of  the 
"  Lenore  "  March,  bringing  out  in  masterly  style  the 
weird  beauty  and  the  despair  of  the  music. 

Midway  he  ceased;  a  crashing  discord  breaking 
off  the  march.  He  walked  over  to  the  table  and 
began  gathering  up  the  written  sheets.  The  music 
had  started  a  new  train  of  thought.  He  tried  to 
banish  the  unsought  idea  by  planning  how  to  send 
the  confession. 

"I'll  envelop  and  address  it  under  cover  to 
John,"  he  thought.  "That  will  keep  Sydney  from 
talking." 

Still  fighting  with  the  unbidden  thought  born  of 
the  music,  he  wrote  a  few  lines  at  the  foot  of  the 
last  page,  knelt,  and  pressed  his  lips  to  the  paper. 
Folding  the  many  sheets,  he  made  them  into  a  com- 
pact parcel,  and,  still  holding  it,  looked  down  at  it, 
his  brows  knit  angrily.  The  unwelcome  suggestion 
warred  fiercely  with  his  preconceived  resolution. 
He  sought  in  his  desk  for  a  large  envelope ;  threw 
it  back  into  the  drawer,  and,  the  frown  passing  be- 


Obiter  Dicta  407 

fore  a  new  look  of  stern  resolve,  he  caught  the  folded 
manuscript  in  both  powerful  hands,  tore  it  across, 
and  yet  across  again,  and  flung  the  tattered  papers 
into  the  fireplace. 

The  smouldering  wood-ashes  burst  into  a  lively 
blaze,  roaring  up  the  chimney  and  dimming  by  the 
momentary  glare  the  paler  light  of  the  lamp. 

Egbert  Dale  did  not  see  it.  Kneeling  at  the 
table,  his  head  upon  his  folded  arms,  he  was  crying 
as  heart-broken  children  cry. 

"It  was  my  life!  my  very  heart!"  he  sobbed. 
"  She  would  have  read  it,  and  she  would  have  un- 
derstood !  She  would  have  understood  all !  Now 
she'll  never  know!  But  neither  can  she  remember 
me  as  a  murderer.  It 's  better  so!  But,  O  GOD!  I 
love  her !  and  to  leave  her  forever  without  a  word  of 
farewell !  I  love  her  so !  " 

The  strong  man's  body  shook  with  horrible  rend- 
ing sobs  such  as  strong  men  alone  know;  such  as 
few  —  thank  GOD  !  —  can  know  more  than  once  in  a 
lifetime. 

Dale  was  not  weeping  when,  twenty-five  minutes 
later,  Sydney  returned,  true  to  his  promise,  to  see 
if  the  report  were  ready  for  "the  Dominie."  The 
jailer,  with  all  his  good-will  toward  the  prisoner, 
was  sleepy.  It  was  sleepy  weather  —  these  early 
spring  days  with  their  high  winds.  He  had  "  hooked 
up"  his  horse  to  the  wagon  to  take  him  up  to  the 
Bowersox  house.  You  would  n't  catch  him  doing 
that  for  any  other  man  in  town  at  this  time  of  night, 
he  had  told  his  wife. 

Dr.  Dale  sat  at  the  table,  his  head  laid  upon  his 
folded  arms.  The  room  was  very  quiet  and  chilly. 
The  fire  had  gone  out,  smothered  by  a  great  heap  of 
fluffy  gray  ashes  now  lying  still  upon  the  dead  em- 
bers. The  smell  of  burnt  paper  was  strong  in  the 
air. 


408  Dr.  Dale 

"You'll  catch  your  death  of  cold,  doctor,  sleeping 
here!"  called  Sydney,  shaking  the  prisoner  gently 
by  the  shoulder. 

Dale's  head  fell  slightly  to  one  side,  bringing 
his  face  into  view.  It  was  very  pale,  but  ineffably 
peaceful. 

About  the  beautiful  mouth  lingered  a  faint  smile, 
—  "the  smile  of  a  tired,  happy  child." 


THE   END. 


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